Inescapable
by Renyalddoa
Summary: My first NCIS fanfic-Gibbs hires a new agent with past connections to members of the team and she makes a strong bond with McGee. Really more T but rated M for later chapters. McGee/OC
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING-I love cases, so this fic has a few actual complete played out cases-just letting you know if that's not your thing.**

**DISCLAIMER-I absolutely do not own anything to do with NCIS-if I did, adorable McGee would get a girl. Or a boy. He would get something. (Forgive me if the cases are not completely accurate-I did make those up all by myself ****J****)**

1

DiNozzo peered warily around the corner of his computer and narrowed his eyes at Ziva. She flicked him only the briefest of glances before lifting her chin in the air.

"What do you want?" she asked archly.

"What do you think our little McGeek is up to today that has made him decide he doesn't need to come in and keep me company in the wee hours of the morning?"

Ziva did not look back at him a second time. "First of all, I have always understood the Americanism of 'the wee hours of the morning' to mean the time between midnight and six a.m., and it is now nine thirty, and I have no idea where McGee is."

"Called and said he'd be late," Gibbs blurted as he strode out from the elevator. "Pile-up on the freeway slowed down the morning commute."

DiNozzo grimaced and Ziva rolled her eyes at him. Gibbs, unusually, said nothing and headed for his office.

"You got a case for us boss?" DiNozzo called out.

"Other business to take care of this morning!" Gibbs hollered back.

Ziva and DiNozzo stared at each other for a moment, each trying to read the answer in the other one's eyes. Finally DiNozzo's widened.

"Aha! The riddle of the empty fourth desk may finally be solved."

"The riddle of...but that's Gibb's desk."

"Not really-he's kinda taken over it the last few years, but when this unit was founded there were originally four agents; at least that's what the protocol calls for. Then there were three, and then there were two..."

Ziva glared at him.

"Ok," he conceded. "Two and a half, but for a few months there really were two while you did all your Mossad...desert fox...warrior princess stuff."

"So what makes you think that out of all the things Gibbs could be doing this morning that he's in the process of hiring another agent?"

"Well," DiNozzo said self-assuredly as he leaned back in his chair, "it was a little hopeless before but now that the number's gone back up to three, brass is probably putting pressure on Vance to fill the quota, and let's face it, Vance doesn't have a clue who would make a good NCIS agent and who wouldn't."

"That's true," Ziva said with a smile playing at her lips. "He certainly hesitated before reinstating me."

DiNozzo pointed his pencil at her. "Don't get cocky, fox princess."

Rebecca Compston shifted to her other foot-the one she had been standing on had fallen asleep while she waited to be shown in. The worn brown couch only a foot away from her looked so inviting, and her feet, though used to high heels, were killing her, but she just couldn't quiet her nerves enough to sit down for even a few seconds.

She chewed at her lip and speedily second-guessed every decision she had made in the past two weeks. Why had she really left New York, to make a fresh start or simply to run away from a bad situation? Did she really want this job for what it could bring into her life, or did she just want something as different from her old career as possible? And why, oh why had she listened to her sister and dressed the way she had? Amy had chosen this outfit so carefully, saying Becca would want to reflect that she was polished Upper East Side Manhattan New York, not five blocks from the Queensborough Bridge, but every woman she had seen in these offices was dressed casually, still professional but in comfy slacks instead of skirts, flat sturdy shoes instead of stilettos. She had wanted to make a good impression, but now she was afraid they would see her as a city flower-just too delicate and fastidious to attend to the dirty business of solving murders. They couldn't be more wrong. She knew it, but how did she get them to see it? Should she pull an elastic from her bag and put her hair up?

Becca shifted feet again, and the release of pressure made her honest enough to admit the real problem. She had wanted to work for the American military for forever, but the origin of the dream was the same as her fear-Jethro Gibbs. Would he even recognize her? The last time he had seen her she had been twelve years old. More than a decade had passed. And if he did recognize her, would he let that cloud his judgment? Would he dismiss her just to avoid the awkwardness?

A head poked out the glass door, making her jump.

"Director Vance is ready for you, Miss Compston."

Don't over think it, Bex, she told herself as she took a deep breath. Your resume is strong and your interview skills are stronger. Just roll with it.

Vance stood when she entered the room, and Becca immediately chastised herself again for not wearing flat shoes-in her heels she was taller then the man whom she hoped would become her boss's boss. But if he noticed, he kept it from registering.

"Miss Compston, thank you for coming," he said cordially as he motioned for her to take a seat.

"Thank you for seeing me," she answered, and looked around her. They were in a small conference room with mauve walls and a tiny set of stadium chairs at the back-she and the director sat at the close end of a long, wide oak-topped table. Only after looking down the length of this table did she see Gibbs in the corner by the coffee pot, his arms crossed, his expression nonchalant.

"This is Agent Jethro Gibbs-he'll be taking part in our interview," Vance said. Becca almost said something, then felt it catch in her throat. Her quick glance had told her how much he had aged these past thirteen years, but his blue eyes cut right through her just like no time had passed at all. She just nodded. It was Gibbs who spoke.

"Miss Compston and I are acquainted," he said quietly.

Vance looked at him for a long moment. "Well," he said at last, deciding that for now it was best to avoid the issue. Becca silently thanked him.

"So Miss Compston, you've quite a resume for someone so young."

"As you see I graduated from college rather early, so I had more time than most people."

"Double major in criminal justice and forensics with a minor in lab sciences, masters in criminal psychology, recruited by the NYPD violent crimes unit right out of school, a year spent working for a private detective agency...why did you leave that last? You were with one of the most lucrative agencies in the city and your former employer speaks very highly of you."

"I was...to tell the truth, Director, I had been used to helping put criminals in jail and finding justice for their victims, and after that, round after round of rich old husbands wanting their trophy wives tailed so they don't violate their pre-nups seemed a little petty. And...."

Vance motioned for her to go on. Becca couldn't help it-she snuck a tiny look at Gibbs.

"I've dreamed of working for this country's military since I was a little girl."

Vance nodded and opened her file. "Yes, let's talk about your relationship with this country. You've lived here for what, sixteen years, yet you only became a citizen five years ago. Why?"

What? Of all the ridiculous...she had only been a child! Becca took a deep breath. "I was not aware until I started getting turned down for jobs for false application information that I wasn't a citizen, Director. I was still a minor seven years after I came here; it never occurred to me that my mother hadn't taken that step. As you see I rectified the situation."

"Yet you still hold dual citizenship."

"English law requires a person's presence to terminate citizenship-I haven't been able to get back there to do so."

Vance sat back and looked at her. A small piece of her understood that due to the rest of her resume being flawless, he had to nitpick, but still....

"The United States military," he said slowly, "doesn't like to make a habit of employing citizens of other countries."

That was it-job interview be damned. She would take a lot, but casting aspersions on her home country and questioning her loyalty to her adopted one in the same breath was over the line.

"The United States military," she said tightly, barely keeping her temper in check, "didn't seem to have a problem with accepting England's help with the U.N., or in Iraq. There are more Brits over there than any of the rest of the American allies, and for no other reason than that England is your friend. And what about Ziva David? Does she not still hold her Israeli citizenship? And what about..."

Becca finally bit her tongue. Vance eyed her even more closely.

"If you are referring to your uncle, Dr. Mallard gave up his British citizenship years ago."

They sat looking at one another for a moment, the fiery young redhead struggling to slow her breathing, the calm older man not even twitching his mustache. In the silence, Gibbs' soft voice felt like a cannon.

"This is irrelevant," he said as he came towards them and sat down on Vance's other side. "We both knew before she came in here that Miss Compston is more than qualified for the job. If the dual citizenship is the only issue, I suggest a compromise. After one year at NCIS, Miss Compston will be subjected to a performance review. If she's an asset to the unit, you give her a little time off to go to England and have her citizenship revoked."

Vance pointed a stern finger at Gibbs; Becca felt forgotten. "A rigorous, thorough review. By me. Not a little five-minute sit-down chat with you, Gibbs."

Gibbs held his hands out toward Becca in literal offer. She narrowed her eyes.

"Wait, does this mean I'm hired if I say yes?"

Vance sighed. "You are to come on to NCIS for an extended trial period, during which you will conduct yourself as the perfect agent, at the end of which you will be subjected to a strenuous review to determine if your continued presence here will be to the best interest of all parties, at which time we will revisit the citizenship issue.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and leaned towards Becca. "It means you're hired if you say yes."

Becca fought to keep the smile from spreading over her face. "Gentlemen, may I borrow a pen?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

2

Ziva watched DiNozzo out of the corner of her eye-he was pretending to work, absentmindedly popping at his keyboard and sending obvious glances towards the back office.

"Are you trying to stretch yourself that last half-inch taller than McGee again?" she quipped.

"Shhhh....I'm trying to watch."

"How can my talking interfere with you watching something you cannot hear?"

DiNozzo ignored her. "Gibbs and Vance are in the office talking to someone, but I can't make them out. Gibbs is smiling, Vance is...Ha! Vance has paperwork in his hands! I told you it was a fourth agent!"

"I did not say you were wrong, I simply asked why you were so certain."

DiNozzo shook his head. "You really know how to take all the fun out of 'I told you so'. Okay, Gibbs is moving, they're coming out, I can see....Oh my God."

Ziva's interest was finally peaked-his voice had dropped about an octave and a half. "What? What?"

"I think it's a woman but she's gotta be a third gender or something, she's like uberwoman!"

"A what?" Ziva snuck a peek over her shoulder.

Walking beside Gibbs was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. In her mid-twenties, this creature had long shapely legs made even longer and shapelier by her high heels, flaring hips, an impossibly narrow waist and a hint of creamy decollate that promised perfection. Atop her strong shoulders and swan's neck sat a head of long glorious full bodied shiny red curls, not auburn or strawberry or ginger but red, and natural too, for even from this distance Ziva could see the dense fringe of mahogany lashes around the glowing olive eyes. The woman smiled at Gibbs; her crimson Cupid's bow pout parted to reveal big, even, Julia Roberts teeth and her nose crinkled and flared like an adorable animal.

Ziva looked back at DiNozzo, who had a sheen of slight panic in his eyes.

"When McGee comes in, we've got to hide him," he said, "distract him, anything. Do not let him see that....person."

"Why?"

"Because McGee's big thing for endless legs is exceeded only by his bigger thing for curly hair and his massively bigger thing for redheads."

"Oh. Yes, those are good reasons."

Just as they sat back down, they heard McGee's voice echo from the elevator.

"You would not believe what I went through to get to you people today!"

DiNozzo's eyes widened at Ziva, who quickly looked back at Gibbs and his companion. Sure enough, the loud addition had captured their attention, and a dripping wet McGee was unknowingly headed right for them. Ziva rushed out from the desks to head him off.

"Yes!" she said cheerfully as she herded him the other way around to his chair and perched herself on the corner of his desk. "We were wondering what was keeping you." She stuck her face directly in his line of vision. "Why don't you tell us all about it?"

"Well they detoured us around a crash half-way to Baltimore, and just as I got back on my commute the sky opened up and it hasn't stopped."

"No," DiNozzo said dramatically. "I was under the impression you stopped to take a swim in the Potomac."

"Tony...." Ziva said through clenched teeth. "Go on McGee."

"Well that's....it."

"Oh."

"Ziva?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you going to get off my desk now?"

"Oh, I thought I'd sit for a moment and keep you company."

"Yeah, but if I don't get my coat off my chair's gonna be wet all day long."

Before she could stop him, McGee stood up. He stopped dead.

"Nice going," DiNozzo whispered to Ziva as they watched McGee's speechless gaze move slowly up and down the figure of the woman with Gibbs as the two walked towards the three. Gibbs took one look at McGee's face and his eyes hardened.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to stare, McGee?"

"Yeah, um, I...uh, sorry, Boss, won't happen again."

Gibbs walked right past them, and the redhead paused for a moment, looking a little confused.

"Paperwork up to Legal first, Rebecca," Gibbs said as he motioned for her to join him at the elevator. "Then I'll introduce you."

After she was out of sight McGee let out the breath he'd been holding.

"What," he whispered as he slunk out of his wet coat, "was that?

"That my friend was the most amazing woman you will ever come within ten feet of," DiNozzo said. Ziva took pity on McGee.

"We believe that she is a new agent. Tony was explaining to me about the fourth desk."

McGee still felt disoriented as he pulled a napkin out of the top drawer and attempted to dry his hair. "The fourth desk....Wait? The fourth desk? The one across from me? That's what they're putting across from me? That's what I'm going to have to look at every day?"

DiNozzo fought to keep from laughing. "Do you need me to take you to the doctor?"

Ziva looked between the two of them. "Why?"

McGee looked at her like she had gone nuts. "Because I'm going to need blood pressure medication, that's why!"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Ziva said. "The human mind can grow accustomed to anything if it is exposed to it enough. After a while of seeing her every day you will get used to her."

McGee thought about it for a moment, then realized he could still feel his heart trying to force its way past his ribcage. "I'll never get used to that," he muttered. "Never. Did you see the way she was dressed?"

Ziva began to pound her keyboard. "Satin pencil skirt, immaculately white chiffon blouse, heels the thickness of a pencil, wide belt that shows off her teeny tiny waist. Yes," she said with an ironic toothless smile. "I saw."

DiNozzo made an exaggerated frown at her. "Ahhhh. Is somebody upset becaws somebody's pwettieh dan she is?"

The pounding on the keyboard became stronger. "Gibbs knows how we work. He hired her-I trust his judgment," she said in her Ziva's- last-word-on-the-matter voice.

DiNozzo slapped his pencil against his palm. "I think Gibbs knows her."

"Why do you say that?"

"He called her by her first name. He doesn't do that. What do you think McGee? McGee? Are you breathing?"

McGee turned a blank face to DiNozzo. "Huh?"

Ziva impaled the escape key with an audible thwack. "Oh boy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

3

That night a knock at her apartment door stopped Becca midway through unpacking. She jumped up, excited to receive the first visitor to her new apartment and happy because the only person it could be was the one she most wanted to see. She threw open the door and threw herself into Dr. Mallard's arms.

"Uncle Duck!"

"I don't know why you insist upon calling me Uncle Duck, Rebecca, when you have three other uncles all named Mallard."

Becca shook her head. "You're the oldest. Just like in Jane Austen-the elder Ferrars is _the_ Mr. Ferrars, and you are _the_ Duck."

"Well, one cannot argue with classic literature, can one? So I came over with take out; not New York, I know, but D.C. does boast some wonderful faux-Chinese spots. Tell me now-was today absolutely horrid?"

Becca tucked her hair behind her ears as she sat cross-legged on the rug and opened her rice. "I will admit, I was more nervous then I'd thought I would be. Director Vance came down on me a little hard."

"Hmmm. And Jethro?"

Becca shrugged. "Gibbs is still Gibbs. Older, but..."

"Still your inspiration for wanting to work for the Navy?"

"Oh give me a break, Uncle Duck! I know he and Mum only went out for a year, but he was the only one of her boyfriends I, well, connected with. I looked up to him. God knows I wasn't gonna follow in her footsteps."

"As willy-nilly as your mother's career path as been, I do believe she's happy."

"Yeah," Becca said, her mouth full of sweet and sour chicken. "My shrink back in New York says all that willi-nilliness gave me an unnaturally large need for order and conventionalism."

Mallard furrowed his brow. "I didn't know you were seeing a therapist."

"It's New York-doesn't everyone? I don't know, I guess...then there's the whole business about you and me...I just wonder..."

"...If the reason you got the job is because of your past with Gibbs and your relation to me?"

"I don't want to think that of him-I get the feeling he fought a little for me. I just don't want the others to find out."

"So what were your opinions of our little team?"

"Well, I think David tries to overcome it but it's obvious she was raised to think she's better and more capable then everybody else, and DiNozzo...DiNozzo just talks too much."

"And Timothy McGee?"

"McGee....oh yeah! The cute one with the really wet hair who looked at me like I was a giant chocolate chip cookie."

"I assure you that every one of them is a very fine and proficient agent. You will learn a lot from them." He looked at her over the tops of his glasses.

"Don't be all hoighty-toity British-y, you mean."

"Hmmm...and you might not want to dress that way every day."

She blushed. "You heard about that? It was Amy's idea-she wouldn't leave me alone. Okay, I won't be a cookie anymore."

He chuckled. "Well, maybe not a chocolate chip one. More like an oatmeal raisin."

Timothy McGee was having serious, ground-shaking problems concentrating on the list of credit card numbers in front of him.

Agent Rebecca Compston had come in on her first day wearing black slacks, sensible shoes, a light sweater and dark rimmed glasses with her hair in a neat bun and not a swipe of make-up. She had a dumpy brown bag full of every non-necessity known to man in one hand and a cup of convenience store coffee in the other. She gave the room a gruff 'Good morning all' that sounded like nerves and a rough night and without another word sat down at her desk.

She was absolutely stunning. He could take his eyes off her, but he couldn't keep them off. Every few seconds like a magnet he found his gaze drifting upwards-he caught her image in bits, as he didn't dare stare long enough to take her in all at once. One glance showed him the incredible length of her legs that the baggy slacks couldn't hide, another the sprinkle of uncovered freckles across her nose lit up in the computer's glare, yet another the soft red curls escaping from her up do. He stole a look at the perfect plump curve of her lower lip and held it in his mind as he blankly watched his program sift through the numbers whizzing by, thought about how their mouths might fit together, if she would taste salty or metallic or bitter like chocolate...

"McGee."

McGee looked up to see the buttons on Gibb's shirt.

"You find those credit receipts yet?"

"Uh...not yet Boss-the program's still running the numbers."

He nodded and looked behind them.

"Agent Compston!"

She jumped. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"I...don't know."

"Come sit at McGee's desk and catch these receipts when they come up. McGee, DiNozzo, you're with me."

McGee had just a second to observe Rebecca's sinuous grace as she unfolded herself out of her chair before DiNozzo grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

The entire ride to the scene McGee sat silent in the car with his elbow on his knee and his chin on his knuckles. DiNozzo turned around from the front seat to look at him.

"You're verrrryyy quiet, McGeek."

McGee looked in his eyes for a disdainful moment. "I'm thinking, Tony."

"Hmmm, really, what about?"

About how when I get back my chair will be warm from her amazing ass, he admitted to himself, and how the air around my desk will smell like her soap and shampoo and skin.

"Do you really get bored that easily?" he asked his partner.

DiNozzo narrowed his eyes. "Fine then, don't tell me."

"Straighten up, both of you," Gibbs huffed as they pulled into a dirt parking lot next to a fallow field. "We've got a second dead sailor."

"Do you think this one's connected to Lieutenant Garrison?" McGee asked as they pulled the equipment out of the car. Gibbs shrugged.

"Only one way to find out."

They waded a short distance through the tall grass to where the body lay. A very young body.

"Jesus, he's only a kid," DiNozzo said as he started shooting pictures.

Gibbs took the wallet the police office handed him. "Seaman first class Darrell Ivenner. Nineteen." He peered inside the beaten-up leather. "Cash, I.D., credit cards, all still here."

"So, obviously not a robbery," DiNozzo said. McGee's brows wrinkled.

"They took all of the stuff in Garrison's wallet."

"Well maybe they're not connected."

"Or," Gibbs whispered, "whoever killed Garrison got sloppy and didn't finish his cover."

McGee took a long look at the boy's sallow face before photographing it. "You getting one of your feelings, boss?"

"I don't know, McGee."

"Weigh all the evidence first, that's what I say," said Mallard as he came up behind them. "What have we here?"

"Baby sailor," DiNozzo answered, "with three forty-five slugs in his chest."

"Well," Mallard said as he bent over the body and gingerly lifted the torn cloth from the bullet holes with a gloved finger, "that may be, but they're not what killed him. No bruising around the entry wounds at all. And..." he said as he gently turned the corpse on its side, "he was moved here from wherever he was actually killed. No blood, not even a trail. Lividity puts him at about fifteen to twenty hours dead, but he hasn't been here near that long."

"Why," McGee began, "would you kill someone, leave all his identifying items behind, put three slugs in his chest after he was dead, and move him hours later?"

Gibbs pulled a picture of a pretty blond girl with a big smile out of the wallet. "I say we start with her."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

4

"Henrietta Baumenhower."

"Gesundheit."

Becca smiled back at DiNozzo. "Yeah, maybe, but that's her name-facial recognition had her picture from her passport. She's here on a fiancé visa to marry Seaman Ivenner. According to the documents they filed both here and in Germany she's been here for sixty-three days."

"Meaning," said Ziva, "that she had twenty-seven days to marry or the visa expires and she has to go back."

All four turned to look at her.

"What? I went to an all-girls high-school in another country; I'm very familiar with American fiancé visa rules."

Gibbs popped the case file on the desk a few times. "Arrange a meeting as soon as possible. We shouldn't let her sit and think he's coming home."

"I already did," Becca admitted. "She'll be here after she gets out of yoga class at two, which gives us enough time to do a background check on her."

Gibbs looked at her for a moment, and she fought the urge to blush. It was the exact same look he had given her when she tore a chunk out of her elbow falling off her bike and had poured rubbing alcohol on it because she didn't want anyone's help.

"McGee, do that background check. DiNozzo, get the interrogation room ready-water, nice temperature, the comfy chair. Ziva, I want you to look into Ivenner's service record."

"What about me?" Becca whispered. Gibbs gave her that look again.

"I think you've done enough for right now, Agent Compston."

Becca sat back down at her desk, confused.

"What did I do that was so wrong?"

"Nothing, you were just..." Ziva trailed off, making Becca sure she was about to say something unsavory.

"You can tell me-I can take it."

"You were a little too comfortable, and Gibbs likes to...keep new people on their toes, off their game, see how they adjust. He did it to me too."

DiNozzo patted her shoulder as he headed to the interrogation room. "You're a probee. Means you get picked on for no reason."

Becca went to check her e-mails, feeling ashamed of wasting time while everyone else had something to help with the case. She noticed Ziva casting little sideways glances at her.

"I do know what I'm doing," she muttered under her breath.

"Of course you do," Ziva said. "Gibbs wouldn't have hired you otherwise."

The tone of her voice made Becca start. Had word already gotten out about her and Gibb's connection, or about Uncle Duck? She knew from the moment she walked in that this team was all about working as a cohesive unit, and she would never become a cog in that mechanism if they all thought she was here just because of who she knew!

Becca didn't see the reproachful look that passed from McGee to Ziva, so she was startled a moment later when Ziva said, "I like your cardigan. That color suits you."

Before she could stop herself a shower of words came flying out of Becca's mouth. "Oh my gosh, I will _never_ wear anything like what I had on the other day! My sister picked it out. I tried to tell her that it wasn't that sort of place, but she...do you have an older sister?"

Ziva looked down to hide her smile. "No, but I...I know what it's like to have family pressuring you. They think they know what's best."

"I don't know," silent McGee piped up from behind his screen. "I think we could use a little New York style around here."

Both women fixed him with a glare so identically icy that he laughed inside himself. No matter what she thought, Rebecca would fit in just fine.

By three o'clock, DiNozzo was in the corner of the interrogation room while Gibbs broke the news to Henrietta Baumenhower, McGee had a thick background file he was sorting to take to Gibbs, Ziva was trying to read between the lines of Ivenner's very thin, clean service record, and Becca had answered five emails, had a text conversation with her sister, been down to the basement to see her uncle do the autopsy, got told that he couldn't tell her anything Gibbs didn't know first, came back up, and was now squeezing her stress ball and slowly going mad.

McGee watched her unseen as her wide green eyes stared off into space and her long fingers squeezed the soft flour ball in a slow massaging rhythm that made him think things he shouldn't be thinking.

"Are you ok?" he asked her softly. She shrugged.

"I just...I had a lot of independence in my last two jobs, especially at the detective agency. I was practically an independent agent. I know I could be doing something, but Gibbs told me I'd helped enough, and I just...I may have only been here for one day, but I know when Gibbs says you're done, until he says otherwise, you're done."

"Well what would you be doing if you were back with the NYPD?"

"I would be looking at crime scene photos, examining how the body was placed, positioned, handled...I have a masters in criminal psychology, I could be doing something! I mean, Gibbs doesn't have DiNozzo do computer work when you're the one with the MIT degree, does he?"

"Ok, ok, calm down." McGee sat quiet for a moment. Becca renewed choking her stress ball. Ziva sat still as a mouse, her mouth in a small o, the sound of her shuffling papers the only thing in the silence.

"All right," McGee said at last as he got up from his desk. "Come with me, Rebecca."

She followed him to the hallway she had been down for her interview.

"Becca," she said.

"What?"

"No one calls me Rebecca but my uncles. It's Becca. Or Bex. Or Compston. That works too."

McGee couldn't figure out why, but at that speech his throat caught a little. "'Kay."

"And you? Do you go by Timothy, or Tim?"

"Just McGee."

She was quiet a moment. "Really."

He caught her meaning and immediately felt very stupid. "Oh, no, I'm not being guarded with you or anything, it's just how it is. Tony's Tony, Ziva's Ziva, and I'm Tim, but I'm McGee. Everyone's called me McGee since I was a kid-my sister's the only one who calls me Tim."

She smiled, and his heart felt thick and hot like he'd swallowed too much Tabasco.

"Ok McGee."

They came to the interrogation room, and she instinctively drew back.

"I don't think I'm supposed to..."

"Relax. You're just going to watch. Gibbs has never cared how many people watch an interview as long as they don't get involved. Besides, this way you show him you're being proactive without stepping on anybody's toes. It's a good thing."

She eyeballed him warily. "Why am I here again?"

He smiled as he ushered her into the door. "Because you're the criminal psychologist. Maybe you'll notice something."

She went in before him, and she stepped just a little too slowly than his hand went forward. For the briefest second his fingers brushed the small of her back, and he couldn't breathe.

They came into a small dark room illuminated only from the light coming from the two way mirror. Becca breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now this feels familiar," she whispered.

McGee knocked on the door.

"She checked out almost clean," he told Gibbs, "but two years ago she was involved in a rally protesting American involvement in Iraq. The local media took these pictures. Lots of police-looks like it might have gotten ugly."

"Good work," Gibbs murmured, then turned an interested eye to Becca. She met his gaze, and then he turned to look at McGee, who shrugged.

"She's just watching. You know, seeing how we do things."

"Fine," Gibbs said curtly and went back in.

"See," McGee said after he was gone. "Fine."

Becca rolled her eyes. "That was not the 'fine' look, that was the 'you're-a-string-of-evidence-and I-don't-know-how-you-fit-together' look."

"Now how did you know that?"

They looked at each other for a long moment, and for the first time Becca realized how very blue his eyes were. McGee thought he imagined it in the dark room, but he could have sworn he saw a little bit of a blush creep down her cheeks. The thought made his stomach feel warm. She didn't answer him.

"Shhh," she said. "I want to hear."

Gibbs was being gentle with the girl, persistent but gentle. He held the photos McGee had given him in his lap and leaned forward towards Henrietta.

"I understand what you're going through right now, believe me I do," he whispered. "You're sad, confused, shocked, anxious as to what's going to happen, I know, but I need to ask you some harder questions." He laid the photos on the table. "Is that you?"

"Yes, that is me," she said in perfect, lightly accented English. "But these are from years ago. Where did you get these?"

"You were an active part of a noisy protest against the war in Iraq, but two years later you came to the U. S. to marry an American sailor? It doesn't make much sense, Henrietta?"

She pushed the pictures back at him. "I was a different person before I met Darrell. He put a face on America for me. It was his very first posting, and he did not speak any German. We were together much after we met-he was very sweet to me."

"He offered to bring you to America, a new life..."

She slammed the table. "No! It was not like that! I am not a mail-order bride looking for a green card! I love him! I had a good life in Germany, a good education. I came to America to be with him! How can you accuse me of...I do not even know what you are accusing me of!"

Gibbs reached a hand towards her. "No no no no, shhhh, no one's accusing you of anything. We're just trying to understand every angle."

McGee looked over at Becca as she watched the interview. Her lower lip pouted out, her auburn brows knitted together and her nose scrunched up to make a picture of an adorable little girl deep in contemplation. McGee suddenly realized he had to be very careful-he could forget about absolutely everything else when he got lost in watching her. How was this happening? He hadn't even known her for forty-eight hours, but...

"Something's not right here."

"Huh?"

"Something's not right, I mean besides a nineteen year old German girl coming across the ocean to get married and her fiancé being murdered. Did you see how quickly she assumed she was being accused of taking advantage of him and how quickly she denied it? Gibbs barely suggested it and she was all over him."

"What are you saying? She's upset, and I'm sure she's faced down that idea before. She's probably sensitive about it."

"Yeah, yeah maybe, I don't know, I'm just getting a weird vibe off the whole situation. She said they spent a lot of time together, but he was missing for three days and she didn't tell anyone? Look at her."

They both turned back to the mirror. Gibbs was being as soft with her as he knew how, but she avoided his eyes, and twisted the paper napkins of her water glass nervously around her fingers. Becca shook her head.

"That's more than being nervous about her future-I don't care how anxious you are, when a man is talking to you about your fiancé being dead, you look him in the eye. She's hiding something; maybe it's just a little thing, but there's something she's not telling us, and she's leaving the country in twenty-seven days."

Gibbs stood up, patted Henrietta on the shoulder and handed her to DiNozzo to escort out. He came back into the dark room and stood between McGee and Becca.

"So any thoughts?"

Silence. Awkward silence.

"Not one?"

Becca couldn't take it. "She's hiding something," she spurted. "I don't know what it is, I just know there's something going on she's not telling us."

Gibbs looked at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

"McGee, call up Immigration Services. Tell them we need to keep her here in D.C. for a little while. And call the airports. Put her on the no-fly list."

McGee glanced at a surprised Becca. "Right away boss."

After he'd left Gibbs stood for a while with Becca not saying anything.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," he finally whispered.

"You told me I'd done enough."

"Like you always listened to me when I told you that?"

She blushed. "This isn't mountain biking in West Virginia, Gibbs-this is your turf. You're the boss."

"I was a little harsh with you earlier. You just surprised me, that's all. I keep forgetting you're an old hat at this. You still seem like a little girl to me."

"I want you to be tough on me," she said boldly. He arched his eyebrow at her.

"No, really, Gibbs, I want you to treat me like I'm just another probee, I don't want..."

"You don't want anyone to know we have a past connection."

"I want my work to stand for itself."

He patted her on the shoulder as he left. "It will. Now get the water glass and take it downstairs. It's time you met Abby."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

5

Before she smelled the chemicals, before she found the electronic glass doors, Becca heard the punk rock music, and smiled. It reminded her of being thirteen and the first time her sister had started slipping her some of her music, the CD's with the parental advisories on the cover that the principals would confiscate. Becca punched the five digit code she had been assigned yesterday into the keypad and the doors slid open.

A slender girl in coal black pigtails, spotted hot pink tights, worn out combat boots and a pristine lab coat with a spider web tattoo on her neck stood over a gas spectrometer with her back to Becca. At the sound of the doors closing she turned around to show the visitor a sweet face with a mouth full of fuchsia lipstick.

"Oh my gosh!" the girl cried as she turned down the boom box. "You must be Rebecca! I'm Abby. Abby Sciuto. She pulled her glove off and held out her arm straight, her hand extended. Becca took it warmly.

"Becca Compston. Gibbs told me to bring you this." She held out the evidence bag with the water glass and the chain of evidence sign sheet. Abby took it from her and walked over to the PCR machine.

"Did he say what he wanted me to compare it to?"

Becca shrugged. "We think this girl's hiding something. Gibbs wants her DNA in evidence just in case we need it later." Abbie raised her brows as she snapped on a new glove

"We?"

"Yes. Gibbs and I. McGee thinks she's fine."

Abby shook her finger at her as she started programming the PCR and preparing the water glass.

"You're like one of those profiler people, aren't you?"

Becca laughed. "I have a masters in criminal psychology, yes, but I'm not a profiler. I helped on a case once with the NYPD profiling team-believe me, those guys made me feel like a second grader. They played intuitive hopscotch through a hundred Jungian theories like they were making coffee."

Abby nodded. "Gibbs does a little bit of that. It'll be good to have someone else like that around. So they tell me you've done a little lab science?"

"It was my minor. Nothing big-micro, hematology, basic stuff."

"Well, feel free to visit me whenever. I can always use company and extra hands that know how to not contaminate everything."

"I think I might. It's-a little weird upstairs. Ziva hasn't made her mind up about me yet, and Denozzo and McGee are...they're guys."

Abby looked her up and down. "Yeah, I can see where that might be a problem. Just remember, this is a really tight-knit group, a family. I don't know if anybody's told you what those three went through, in Somalia. You can't expect to be adopted in one day."

"Yes, but..."

They were interrupted by Ziva coming running through the doors.

"Hi Abbs. Rebecca, you need to come to the morgue. Ducky is briefing us.

"Oh good, everyone's here," Mallard said in his sing song voice when Becca and Ziva arrived. "It almost feels like I'm teaching again."

"What have you got for us, Duck?"

"A great deal, I'm afraid. I fear this poor boy underwent an ordeal, so I'll go through injuries in chronological order. First, the tissue sample Abby did a tox screen on shows traces of ketamine-by the ratio of what was left I would say it was administered to him three days ago."

"Right when he disappeared," Gibbs breathed.

"Yes, but by the middle of day two it had worn off enough that he was fully conscious. That brings us to these." Mallard lifted the pale limp arm to show severe bruising around the wrist.

"Rope burn, two days old-this random pattern indicates he struggled quite adamantly. I would like to say he was lying down or tied to a chair, but with the fact that the hands were bound together and the stress against the rope is in every direction..."

"He was hung up by his wrists," Becca finished. Mallard looked her in the eyes for just a moment.

"Yes. And then there are these." He showed them the strange movement, like a restricted joint, right in the middle of both the upper arms, and where he had laid the fascia and muscle of the leg open to revel a badly greensticked femur. "These wounds show trauma made by a cylindrical object about three inches in diameter."

McGee cocked his head. "A baseball bat?"

"No, only a solid wood bat would be heavy enough for this, and it would have left splinters."

When DiNozzo spoke, his voice was choked. "A pipe."

"If his arms were completely broken and he was hung from his wrists, his shoulders would have been dislocated," Becca said. "Badly."

Mallard nodded and showed them the torn delt and trap muscle tissue. For a moment no one spoke. Finally Gibbs cleared his throat.

"How did he die, Doc?"

"His shoulders show signs of being popped back in very violently. I believe they took him down. This was the fatal blow."

Mallard turned Ivenner's head to the side for them all to see a cone shaped depression three inches wide right over the temporal bone. Deep fissures in the bone radiated like fireworks from the straight edge.

"His temporal lobe swelled like a helium balloon. He was brain dead a while before his heart stopped pumping."

"So how long after he died did they shoot him?"

"Not long-there was very little congealed blood in the torso when I pulled the bullets out. I assume that, if you can find where he was killed, you will also find a very large bloodstain."

Ziva shook her head. "Why would anyone torture someone like that for an entire day, kill him, and then shoot him after he was dead?"

Becca pursed her lips. "It wasn't to hide the actual cause of death," she said at last. "We know that-the COD would be obvious. The only other reason I can think of is to connect the gun these slugs came from with this murder."

Suddenly Gibbs' eyes lit up and he took a deep breath. "McGee, call Abby and tell her to pull the forty-five slugs from the Garrison case file and see if they match the ones Ducky got out of Ivenner."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

6

The next morning Becca came in early to find herself alone in the office, except for Gibbs, who sat at her desk with his feet up on her mouse pad. He looked sheepish when he saw her.

"Sorry, force of habit. It's where I used to come to think."

"I don't mind," she said as she hoped sidesaddle on the desk and handed him her coffee. His eyes widened.

"Is this for me?"

"No but you can have some. You were the one who started me drinking it-I take it the same way you do."

He took a long sip and gave it back to her

"You ok?"

He waggled the case file at her as if waving a white flag. "Abbie did the ballistics. The same gun used to actually kill Lieutenant Garrison was used to cover the cause of Seaman Ivenner's death."

"But that's good news! That's a connection between the cases!"

"Yeah Bex, it's great forensic evidence, very compelling, but with no gun to trace and a dead end in Garrison's case and no one involved in Ivenner's but a suspicious girlfriend, I don't see what it does but frustrate me!" He threw the file on her desk-the photos slid out and across the floor.

"I got it," she said as she went to pick it up. She remembered a few times when he had been like this when they'd known each other before. It was always a situation he knew he could help and just didn't know how.

"Look, it's only the second day. We know now that the two cases are connected, so we can go back through everyone you interviewed before you got stonewalled in the Garrison case and see if we can find some connection to Ivenner. There has to be one somewhere."

He smiled and ran his finger over her thumb. "I'm glad you're here."

She smiled back. "I'm glad you're glad I'm here."

Just then they heard familiar voices coming from the elevator. Right as the doors slid open Gibbs got up from Becca's desk and she jumped down from it.

"Do you think..." she whispered

"Shh."

"Well!" exclaimed DiNozzo. "You're in bright and early, Probee! Gotta catch that worm, gotta impress the boss so he'll keep you!"

"I wouldn't talk so loud if I were you, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he tossed him the case file. "Compston's the one who had the idea that the cover was the gun. Ballistics confirmed; go back and check out everyone we interviewed in the Garrison case. See if you can find a link to Ivenner."

"Oh come on!" DiNozzo called after him as he headed to his office. "I'm the one who realized it was a pipe! All right, there's eight people on this list, I guess we'll each take two. You do know how to do a restricted access cross-reference on someone, right Probee?"

She skewered him with her eyes and then looked at her watch. "You know DiNozzo, my old boss the commissioner of the New York police is probably just getting his morning coffee. You want me to call him so you can ask _him_ that question?"

He made a face at her as Ziva's phone rang. It was Gibbs.

"Abbie just got done analyzing the dirt that was on Ivenner's clothing-she says it's driveway gravel, lawn sod and tiny bits of Bermuda grass."

"He was killed in someone's yard?"

"Yeah, this particular gravel was used in a specific area of the city, and she also looked at the bits of metal left in the wound tracks. She says they're the sort of copper used in housing piping, not industrial grade."

"Well how many houses could there be in that area old enough to still have copper piping instead of PVC?"

"That's what we've got to find out. I want you and McGee on this-find the houses, take pictures of Garrison, Ivenner and all nine interviews with you. See if anybody recognizes anyone. Give your background checks to Compston and DiNozzo."

"Got it. Come on McGee," she said as she hung up and dumped the interview file of Garrison's wife and brother on DiNozzo's desk. "Gibbs' orders!" she sang out as she hurried off to the elevator. McGee got up to hand his files to Becca. When he did, she laid a thumb over his and trapped his hand.

"Where are you guys going?" McGee had to recover from the shock of her looking right in his eyes before he could answer.

"I have no idea. You gonna take these files?"

"You gonna let them go?"

McGee slid his thumb out from under hers and dramatically opened his hand off of the folders. He held her gaze for just a second more before he grabbed his coat and rushed off after Ziva. Unaware DiNozzo was watching her, Becca looked after McGee for a moment. She shook her head and settled down to her desk.

"He's gay, you know," DiNozzo said casually. A look of extreme surprise swept over Becca's face before she could hide it.

"He is not!" she said at last, realizing he was teasing. He put his hands in the air.

"Fine, be a hag if you want to. Who am I to stand in the way of a lifestyle?"

She threw her stress ball at him, and he swerved just enough that it hit him in the eye instead of the nose.

"Hey, watch it Probee! If that thing busts and makes me look like Casper, you're paying for a new suit!" He tossed it back to her. "You've got pretty good aim," he admitted after a minute.

"My...one of my mom's boyfriends taught me how to throw a baseball."

"You're not really from New York, are you?"

"What tipped you off?"

"You say words funny every once in a while. Like just then, you said 'taught' like 'tater-tot.'"

"I was born in England. I lived in London until I was nine years old."

"Wow, really? You know, Ducky's Scottish."

She blushed. "Oh yeah, I didn't notice that while he was talking for thirty minutes."

"You guys should hang out; I bet you'd have a lot in common."

She smiled and looked down at her files. "More than you know, I'm sure."

* * *

"Okay," Ziva started as she walked back to the car. "The city gave me all the houses in the neighborhood that used Abbie's gravel that still have their original copper pipes. There are five. The census bureau gave me the names of the owners and their family members who live in the houses but get this; two of these homes suffered severe leaks three days ago."

McGee nodded. "So the question is, were the leaks just regular damage or did it come from someone removing a pipe from the system? And aren't these homes connected to the same system sometimes?"

"Yes. I'm hoping that the two houses are neighbors. Maybe if the owners don't know anything, the neighbors do."

As they drove down the freeway, McGee sat quietly, peering out the window at the traffic flying by. Ziva sighed.

"Ok, if I were Tony I would be teasing you mercilessly right now, but I'm not, so just tell me what's wrong."

McGee knew better than to tell Ziva that it was nothing-she could read him better than that.

"I was in front of you guys when we got off the elevator. Call me crazy, but I thought I saw...I think I saw Gibbs and Becca having like, a moment or something."

"A moment? I don't understand."

"I really don't either. I thought I saw Gibbs sitting at that desk like he used to, with his feet up, but she was sitting on the desk really close to him. I didn't really see them like that, I sort of saw them, you know, jumping apart when they heard us coming."

Ziva took a deep breath. "Well, ok, but that's hardly proof that..."

"And something else. When I took her into the interrogation dark room, Gibbs gave her a look, and I told her it was fine, and she said sort of off-handedly, like she didn't even realize she was saying it, that that wasn't his 'fine' look, it was some other of his looks, and she was right on the nose. When I asked her how she knew, she shrugged it off and didn't answer me."

"She's worked at this job since she was twenty, McGee. I'm sure there are a lot of crime investigation bosses like Gibbs."

"But didn't Tony say Gibbs called her by her first name the very first day she was at the office?"

Ziva gripped the steering wheel and turned to him sharply. "McGee, what are you trying to say? You think Gibbs hired Becca because there's...something going on between them? That does not sound like the Gibbs I know!"

"Ziva, I'm just saying what I saw! It's our job to string evidence together in a coherent story, and..."

"...And Gibbs is literally, literally twice her age! She's twenty-five! What sort of past can a mature man like Gibbs have with a twenty-five year old girl!"

"I don't know! I don't know, forget I said anything!"

They drove in silence for a little while, McGee glowering at the side view mirror. Finally Ziva cast a glance at him.

"Even if that were true," she said gently, "does it matter? I know I was a little cold to her at first, but in just two days she's shown me she could be a very good agent. I mean, if they keep it out of the office..."

"Yeah, yeah you're right. I guess it doesn't, really."

Something still wasn't right; she could feel it. Out of the blue it hit her.

"McGee, you really like her, don't you?"

He ignored her for a moment. Finally he looked at her, and his eyes were as bright as she'd ever seen them.

"You have to promise not to tell this to anyone, ever, Ziva."

"Oh please. I'm former Mossad; I'm better at keeping secrets than anyone you've ever known."

"I'm serious! If Tony found out, or Gibbs, or...God, if she...Seriously, Ziva, not a soul."

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. Ziva straightened her features.

"You have my word."

McGee took a deep breath.

"I have a stronger physical reaction to her than I've ever had to any woman in my life. Much stronger."

"Well she is that sort of woman, I guess..."

"No, that's not what I mean. Admit it, yeah, she took us _all_ by storm two days ago, but yesterday, when she came in dressed down in her glasses with no make-up on, I still just...She was standing next to me in the dark room, and I looked into her eyes and _I couldn't breathe_. Before we left, she took those files from me, and all she did was slide her thumb over mine, nothing, and here it is two hours later and I can still feel my skin tingling. She smiles at me and I just get these flipping knots in my stomach and chest like heartburn or something..."

"Ok! Ok! I do not want to have to pull over to a hospital in the middle of casework!" She smiled at him. "Maybe you were right-you do need blood pressure medication."

He smiled weakly at her, and she felt a little shocked to see that just the memory of how he felt made him get so serious.

"You did promise Ziva," he reminded her. She picked up her gold Star of David charm and kissed it.

"I swear."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

7

Six o'clock came and went and still DiNozzo and Becca sat at their computers sifting through every person they could prove their nine persons of interest had ever known, talked to or been connected with. Becca felt like she was on the verge of a breakthrough, but it was nothing more than her intuition-so far she had come up empty handed. But she recognized this feeling. She had experienced it many times before.

"Anything?" DiNozzo asked wearily. He was too tired even to tease her.

"Nothing. I can't help thinking..."

"What?"

"You weren't in that interrogation room, DiNozzo. You didn't see that girl's face. I just know she's hiding something, and Gibbs agrees with me, and as compelling as the shared gun theory is, it doesn't take her into account."

He shrugged. "Maybe it's just a coincidence." She deadpanned him a look.

"How many coincidences have you come across in murder investigations?"

His eyes turned serious. "Not many."

He wheeled his chair over to her and sat with their knees facing each other. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking...I'm thinking about how good women are at keeping secrets, and how bad they are at keeping it a secret that they have a secret."

"I think I'm with you; keep going."

"I just...I just have this gut feeling that the women are the key to this case. I think we need to..."

Her eyes lit up. "Garrison and his wife weren't married a long time. What was her maiden name again?"

"Uh....Mueller." He pulled up the file. "We only checked her out under Cristina Garrison."

They spun around to face her computer together. "Ok, let's see what we can find on Cristina Mueller. Here we go...only her name is spelled with a K. That's traditional German, not Americanized."

DiNozzo shook his head. "I remember that interrogation. I didn't pick up on an accent. It says she was born in a town called Gelban. That sounds familiar. Look it up."

The town of Gelban had its own website in German and in English.

"It's like a tourist town for the men at the naval base-it's only five miles from the parameter."

He started digging through the other files. "I swear I've heard that name somewhere else, I...Becca." He held up a familiar picture. "Henrietta Baumenhower is from Gelban."

"We did it," Becca whispered. "We found the connection."

He grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her hard on both cheeks, just in time for Ziva and McGee to get off the elevator to see him.

Ziva sighed. "Oh not you too!"

"What? No no no, we found it! Call Gibbs!" DiNozzo was jumping up and down like a little boy as he shoved the phone at Ziva and dialed the number. Before Gibbs had even got the receiver to his ear, DiNozzo grabbed the phone from Ziva's hand.

"Gibbs, we got it. Cristina Garrison's maiden name was Kristina Mueller. She and Henrietta Baumenhower are from the same town in Germany, five miles outside the naval base!"

He almost hung up, but Ziva yanked the receiver back. "Gibbs, wait! McGee and I found it too! The house that had the terrible leak in its old copper pipes belongs to an elderly Mrs. Cooper. She let us in to take a look. Not only is there a three inch wide pipe missing from her exposed fixtures, but she recognized Garrison's cousin Bernie from a family photo-he's a friend of her grandson Louis. And we found blood in her back yard. A lot of blood."

Becca started typing as fast as she could

Gibbs slammed down the phone and came running out of his office. "Bex, what have we got on Bernie Garrison?"

Becca shook her head. "Nothing. I can only access his records for five years back when he came to D.C. They're clean-I can't get into anything before then."

"You can't access anything at all? Come on!"

"God, Gibbs, I never was a computer whiz!"

"Whoa!" Ziva pulled them apart. She was now convinced that McGee was right about the two of them, but now was not the time. "Look at this." She scanned the family photo into the computer, blew it up and enhanced Bernie's face, and held the picture of Cristina Garrison up next to it. "Does anyone else see what I see?"

McGee squinted at the faces. "They have the same nose. The same chin, the same shape of eye..."

DiNozzo smacked his forehead. "Bernie's Garrison's cousin by marriage! He's the wife's blood cousin!"

Gibbs took a deep breath. "McGee."

"Boss."

"Can you hack into the German government's system and access the census records prior to two thousand four?"

"I...can. Do you want me to?"

Becca leaned into Gibbs. "Can't we get in big trouble for breaking international protocol? We can get warrants-the German government will hand over their records."

Gibbs shook his head. "We don't have time for that-I feel like Henrietta's on to us. If we wait much longer her, Cristina and Bernie will all be out of the country. I want them in holding tonight."

McGee sat at his computer, hands to the ready. "Boss, if you tell me to hack into Germany, I will hack into Germany."

Gibbs said nothing. After a moment he nodded. McGee's fingers started flying. Becca came around and stood behind him.

"I gotta see this," she breathed.

As if she anticipated McGee's stumbling with Becca so close, Ziva gently pulled her back a touch. "He gets a little claustrophobic," she said gently. "Give him a bit of space."

"He does not," DiNozzo whispered. Ziva shook her head.

"Shush."

"Ok, past the firewall...password request bypassed....and we're in! And oh my God, it's all in German. Of course it is."

Ziva looked at Gibbs, who threw the file at the cubicle wall.

"Can't we get a translator?"

He grimaced at her. "We have to request one-there's no way it'll get through until tomorrow afternoon."

Suddenly Becca threw her hands in the air.

"Duck reads German!"

"He does?"

"Yeah, he's big into Proust, likes to read the originals."

DiNozzo stared at her. "How do you know that?"

She blushed. "Never mind, just call him!" She reached to hand Gibbs the phone, but he was already gone to the foot of the stairs.

"Ducky!" Duck, get up here now!"

Mallard came running up the steps. "Jethro, what is it?"

"We have a language problem."

They dragged him over to the computer; as soon as he saw the umlauts, he sighed.

"Very well, let me get my spectacles, all right, what are we looking for?"

McGee handed him the mouse. "Census information for the town of Gelban before two thousand four."

"Oh gracious, I don't want that thing," Mallard said as he shoved the mouse back to McGee. "All right, Timothy, click here, yes, now click there, and, let me see, bring up oh, o two or o three. Aha! The census for Gelban, two thousand two. What name are we looking for?

"Bernard, Kristina, Mueller."

"Good Lord! Do you know how many Kristinas there are in Germany?"

"Ducky!"

"All right, All right, ahh! There you are. A Kristina and a Bernard Mueller, living in the same house."

Ziva shifted her feet. "How far back can you find them?"

Gibbs squinted at the screen. "Cristina Garrison is twenty six years old-try the late eighties."

They pulled up the page. A Kristina and Bernard Mueller, ages five and nine, were both listed in nineteen eighty-eight as children of a Frederick Bernard Mueller. DiNozzo let out a low whistle.

"They're brother and sister," Becca whispered. Gibbs had a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Duck, help McGee get into the national police records-see if Mueller has a history."

"Okay, here we go...what's it say?"

Mallard peered at the text. "Nothing too grand. Petty theft, a carjacking,.. oh my. He was arrested in two thousand three on suspicion of human trafficking."

Becca sighed deeply. "That's it. There's no record of a visa or green card ever issued for Cristina Garrison before she was married. Her brother must have smuggled her into the country. Garrison found out somehow, and Ivenner got messed up in it through Henrietta. That's what got them killed."

Gibbs laid a hand on her wrist. "Whoa, now, it's a good theory but we have very little forensic evidence. We don't even have the gun that all seven bullets came from."

"But do we have enough to pick them up?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs smiled just a little. "DiNozzo, McGee, pick 'em up. All of them. Bernie, Cristina, Baumenhower and Cooper. All four in holding"

"If they're still in the country," Ziva muttered. Becca nodded.

"Or in Henrietta's case, still alive."

McGee and DiNozzo gathered up their coats. Just as he turned to go back downstairs, Mallard cast a curious glance at them all.

"Just how did you know I read German anyhow?"

Only Gibbs caught the horror on Becca's face as the other three pointed at her.

"Oh," Mallard said dejectedly as he patted his niece's shoulder. "Right. Well, good night all."

"Ducky," Gibbs called out. "Where are you going?"

"Home!"

"Not yet. Hard day's work, successful outcome and we haven't officially welcomed Agent Compston to our team yet. When the boys get back with the suspects, we're going out for a drink."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

8

Somehow, once the day was done, despite her exhaustion, Becca felt quite up to a night out with her new co-workers. She walked into the bar just behind Gibbs, and they lingered in the doorway a little before the others saw them. Becca looked around her. It was a homey little place, very Irish, with dark polished wood, lots of brass and deep green walls. A TV in one corner had on a football game with the sound turned low.

"This place feels like you," she said to him. He smiled at her.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Solid. Hardworking. Not much to say for itself, but as soon as you walk in you know it's a good place to be."

Thinking no one was looking, not seeing McGee watching them out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs placed the lightest, quickest of kisses in her hair.

DiNozzo caught sight of them.

"Our new partner! Sam, get a glass of...wait, you're English...get a glass of sherry! To our new partner!"

Abbie, Ziva, DiNozzo, McGee and Mallard all clinked their glasses in the air as Gibbs ushered Becca over to the bar. Gibbs looked distastefully at the cherry red liqueur in front of her.

"Are you really gonna drink that?"

She looked him in the eye. "I'll drink whatever you put in front of me." Gibbs laughed.

"Sam, when she's done with this, get her two shots of your oldest Irish whiskey. I'm paying."

As inevitable, everybody paired off as the night wore on. Mallard had Abbie in hand teaching her how to shoot darts, Gibbs and Sam the barkeep were having a quiet chat, DiNozzo and Ziva were having a rather noisier, tipsier one about foreign policy over a game of pool, which left McGee and Becca sitting awkwardly at the corner of the bar together, not talking, but not _not_ talking. At last Becca pointed with her glass of water (she needed a breather after Gibbs' whiskey) at DiNozzo and Ziva.

"Those two," she opined, "cannot help themselves. Whether fighting or playing or just driving each other crazy, they are like magnetic poles."

McGee shook his head in wonder. "How can you see all this after only three days?"

Abbie, extremely keen of hearing, called out, "Didn't you know? She's a top star from the NYPD criminal profiler unit!"

Becca laughed. "I just have a knack for people."

"And what," McGee asked as he set down his glass purposefully, "is your take on me?"

She looked at him a long time, and he got lost in her eyes. At last he began to think it might have been a dangerous question-what if what she said wasn't what he wanted to hear?

"That you're not usually this quiet," she finally said. He sighed.

"I've just been thinking about a lot of things recently."

"Just in coincidence or induced by my arrival?"

God the woman was uncanny? Was he really that obvious to her? His pride could stand wanting a woman he knew he'd never get, but her knowing it...no, that would be too much. So he did what men do best. He changed the subject.

"So are you really from England, or was Tony just joking?"

"No, I really am. My mother and sister and I moved here when I was nine. I actually grew up very close, by Richmond. My sister lives by Baltimore now-Mum moved back home with my granny to take care of her. Are you going to answer my question, or are you the only one who gets to ask them?'

She was looking at him so intensely that it was now his turn to blush.

"Yes, my thoughts have been about your joining our team."

Was he imagining it or was there a little play of a smile on her lips. "And am I going to know what those thoughts are?"

"I've been...thinking a lot about you and Gibbs, and at first it upset me, but I've come to realize how good you are at your job and what an asset you're going to be, and I think I'm ok with it."

She winced. "I've never been any good at keeping secrets-it's a major fault."

He shouldn't do this to himself; it was so foolish, but he couldn't help it. "Can I ask, how did it happen? I mean, what was it that brought you two together?"

Becca swiveled her stool around so that she faced him. Their legs touched; he could feel the skin of his knee come alive even through his pants and hers. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"You know, I'm sure," she began, "that Dr. Mallard knew Gibbs before he became the M.E. for NCIS."

All right, _now_ McGee was truly listening; _now_ he was completely confused. "I had heard rumors, but..."

"Dr. Mallard is my uncle. One of my mother's four brothers. Uncle Duck. Gibbs and Duck have been friends a long time and, the year that I was eleven and twelve, he introduced Gibbs to my mother and they had a serious relationship. He and I...we sort of bonded. Why are you staring at me?"

McGee felt quite sure he had never said anything as ridiculous as what he was about to say in his entire life.

"I saw you and Gibbs at your desk, and you were so familiar with each other, that I thought...I thought you and Gibbs were..."

"That he and I were, what, like a thing?"

"Well, yeah."

"Oh my God."

He put his hand through his hair. "I know, I know, it seems so stupid now, but..."

"...No, it doesn't, that's the funny thing. I had never thought anyone would have any idea other than the truth, but God! He called me by my first name right off the bat, we were together at my desk, I knew his looks, and then this evening during that craziness we were so familiar with each other-no wonder you thought what you did!"

"You're not angry with me?"

"No! McGee, no! I'm angry with myself for being so careless. I thought you would all think the less of me if you knew my connection with the two of them. I misjudged you guys-it would have been better to just be straightforward."

He nodded. "Ziva tried to convince me it was something else." Becca laughed.

"Ziva knows too?"

"Yeah, but we'd better leave Tony out of it. You would never hear the end of it. Best to leave him in the dark."

She winked at him. His heart skipped.

"So your mom and Gibbs, huh?"

She nodded. "After my dad, whatever that was, I would say he was the closest she ever came to falling in love for real again. I won't say he was like a father to me, but my dad was gone, Mum was never really serious about any of her men, and Gibbs tried his best to really be a friend to me. He was the reason I wanted to work for the Navy, since I was a kid. Mum was so crazy, so all over the place, so do whatever she wanted when she wanted it, and in my naïve need to catch on to something, I looked at Gibbs and thought, that's stability, that's order. If I can just be like Jethro Gibbs, maybe I can save something out of all this chaos. I know better now, but in following him, I found my passion."

McGee was completely mesmerized. She had to see it in his eyes, how could she not? But he couldn't help it. He couldn't have looked away from her if he'd wanted to, and he certainly didn't. He cleared his throat to get rid of some of the tension he felt building up in his body.

"I just have one more question," he said. She tilted her head in invitation.

"Are you never going to wear your hair down again?"

"It's only been three days! I just had it down two days ago."

"I know."

She looked at him for what seemed like forever, then a smile slow as melting ice cream dripped across her face.

"You are an odd man, Timothy McGee," she whispered, and pulled her elastic out of her hair so that it fell in all its brilliant sexy scarlet mess down to the ends of her shoulder blades.

"Are you satisfied now?"

The only thought in McGee's brain chanted don't kiss her don't kiss her don't kiss her don't kiss her kiss her kiss her no _don't_, _don't_ kiss her, don't kiss her...

She put a light hand on the pocket of his jacket, and suddenly there were no thoughts. None. Just empty air and her fingers on his chest.

"It's getting late, and I think Gibbs is ready to go-he drove me here."

His head started going ninety miles a minute again-offer to take her home, idiot, tell her she doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to, be a gentleman, offer your services, no, not like that, your _gentlemanly_ services...

"Yeah, uh, ok, see you tomorrow then, I guess."

"Great," she said cheerfully as Gibbs handed her into her coat and she gave Mallard a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow then. Bye everybody! Thank you all so much! Bye Sam!"

He watched the harsh bar lights bouncing off her curls until she was just a blur some distance past the tinted window glass. He was scarcely even aware of DiNozzo putting an elbow on his shoulder until his partner spoke right next to his ear.

"I definitely think we'll keep her, Ziva. This one's so much quieter and more biddable when she's around."

"Hmmm," Ziva said on his other side, "he cannot hear you, Tony. He cannot hear a word you are saying. Maybe that's why he's so much more biddable.

All at once McGee stood up. "It's midnight guys, and I want to get an early start tomorrow so we can lock those bastards up forever, not just for the night. Hey Duck, if I go home can you drive Abbie back?"

"She is safe in my hands!"

All the way home McGee forced himself to focus on driving, actually made an effort to push Becca from his mind and replace her with concrete thoughts of where to turn, where the stop signs were in his neighborhood, what exact four numbers made up the pass code to get into his building, which key on his key ring opened his door. He refused to think of her as he hung up his coat, slipped out of his shoes, but once divested of his slacks and sport coat and suddenly way too tight button down, once in his pajama pants in his bed, he finally gave in. He let the collected sensations of her eyes and her hair and her voice and those briefest merest little touches and her brilliance, God damn it her brilliance more than anything, wash over him, and he gave in to all the mental and physical pressure that had been building in him from the first moment he saw her until that last glimpse he had of her through the bar windows. At last, utterly exhausted, he crashed into his pillow and fell deeply asleep.

Two hours later he woke with a start as an obsessive question entered his mind straight out of his dreams. Namely, had he, circumspect, respectful, slow as a snail Timothy McGee, had he or had he not fallen in love with someone in three days?

He got no more sleep that night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

9

Gibbs stood in front of his team taking the measure of each one of them.

"Let's finish this. It's been more than a month-I'm ready to be done. Okay, we're gonna triple team 'em. Let Cristina sweat for a while-McGee, you take Bernie, DiNozzo, Cooper. Ziva, you work the system, contact people, make McGee's hack legal. Becca-you're with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Henrietta Baumenhower. You knew she was hiding something. I want to see if you can get it out of her."

"You want me in interrogation?"

He turned to look at her. "You've done it before, yeah?"

She let out a deep breath. "Yeah."

They went down the hall to the dark room. Inside Becca crossed her arms and looked through the mirror. Henrietta sat alone, her blonde hair almost like a light bulb turned on in the cold, grey room. She sat slump backed in a rickety old folding chair, steadily thumping out a rhythm with the uneven leg. Becca glanced at Gibbs.

"That's the comfy chair?"

"She lied to me-she forfeited the comfy chair." He held the door open for her. "Are you coming?" Becca held her hand up to him.

"I just need to...watch her for a minute."

The rest of the dark room, Gibbs, her own awareness of herself disappeared- the world constricted to Henrietta's face. The girl seemed to be experiencing some extreme inner turmoil, almost as if someone invisible were sitting across from her chastising her to the verge of tears. Becca shook her head.

"She knows stuff, Gibbs. She knows a lot, but she didn't help. She didn't do this."

"Well, let's find out." Becca nodded.

"Where do you want me to stand?"

"I don't want you to stand. I want you to sit. You're gonna take point on this one."

"Just a second then." Becca rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, redid her hair up so it was looser and more messy than before, and put on her glasses. She did not want to come across as an authority figure to this girl.

The interrogation room was cold-goose-pimples raised on Becca's arms. Good, she thought. It'll make me look nervous.

"Hi Henrietta," she said as she slid into the seat facing the girl. "I'm Becca. How are you doing?"

"You threw me in a jail cell last night. Why?"

Becca offered her no explanation. "I'm really sorry about that. I know how uncomfortable that must have been."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

That was fast. Becca leaned forward in her chair and looked in Henrietta's eyes for a moment. The soft ring of brown around the widened irises was almost too thin to see. She was terrified. Becca reached out and placed her warm hand on Henrietta's chill arm.

"Henrietta, I know you lied to Agent Gibbs two days ago. I know you're hiding something, that you know something. I don't want you to be afraid to tell me. We've got Bernie and Louis in custody right now. They won't be able to do anything to you."

"Who?"

"Bernard Mueller, from your hometown in Germany." Henrietta looked away from her-she was losing her. Becca took a deep breath and decided to go out on a limb.

"We know about the trafficking. We know Bernie has been smuggling girls out of Germany."

All at once Henrietta's eyes snapped back to hers and she pulled her arm away from Becca.

"You don't understand! If they find out I told you anything-I may have to go back to Germany! If Bernie's family finds out I put him in prison..."

"We can keep you here, protect you. Henrietta, I know you didn't do this." She reached out and gently squeezed her fingers. "Whatever you saw, whatever they may have made you do, I know you didn't want to hurt Darrell."

A single tear slipped down the girl's cheek. "I loved him," she whispered.

"I know. I know you did. Help me get him justice."

Henrietta took a deep breath. "What will happen to me? Will I have to go to jail?"

"Did you do anything that would make us send you to jail?"

She nodded. Becca looked at Gibbs, who nodded at her once.

"We'll try to help," Becca said. "If it's small we may even be able to get you out of it. But whatever it is, you could be tried here, not in Germany."

The girl sat there for a long moment. Finally she turned away from Becca.

"A lot of sailors from the base come to our village," she began. "Five years ago Kristina Mueller met an American naval officer and they started sleeping together. She and her brother Bernard both had a record, and Kristina couldn't get a passport to come to America. Bernard struck a deal with the officer-he would pay Bernie ten thousand dollars, and Bernie would sneak Kristina into America."

"What was the officer's name?"

"Garrison. Harold Garrison. Once they were all here, Bernie set up a business with his father Frederick back in Germany and Louis Cooper. Frederick found girls who wanted to get out of the country but needed help, and Bernie and Louis did everything-fake passports, papers, wiped criminal records, paid for plane tickets, and looked up men who wanted order wives. Then once the girls were here they sold then to the men for thousands and thousands of dollars. They always got paid."

"How did you get into this?"

The tears began to flow faster. "I had a record because of my activity with the German anti-American societies; I had been arrested for throwing bottle bombs, setting fires. I could not get a visa to come and be with Darrell. Frederick said he could help me, but no one told Darrell about any of it. After I had been here for almost two months, Bernie and Louis came looking for Darrell. They said he owed them money. They wanted eight thousand dollars!"

"And Darrell didn't have it."

"Not even a little! So they drugged both of us and took us to this house and took us to the back yard. They...they tied Darrell up and...they made me watch them..."

"It's okay, you don't have to tell us. We know what they did."

"After he was dead, Bernie put on some gloves and got a gun. They shot him in the chest. Then they drove me to an old abandoned field and they tossed Darrell in the grass, then they drove a little further and made me buried the gun."

"Henrietta, you have to tell me the truth."

"That is the truth!"

"No, it isn't. We had dogs and agents search all over the vicinity of that field. They never found a gun."

"No, I...I am sorry! I was scared! I had touched all over that gun! What if you found it and thought I killed Darrell?"

"Where's the gun, Henrietta?"

"I went back later and dug it up. There is a small lake a mile behind the field. I threw it in the water. I am so sorry! Please do not send me to jail! I was so afraid-I did not know what else to do!"

Becca nodded and went out with Gibbs. To her surprise the dark room was full of people.

Ziva eyed Gibbs. "She's not going to jail, is she?"

Gibbs shrugged. "She came into the country illegally, witnessed a murder and didn't come forward and disposed of evidence. The second two may have been under duress, but if she doesn't get deported she's probably looking at a little jail time. Ziva, call the local LEOs and go with their crime unit to dreg the lake. We need that gun. How did it go, boys?"

"Well," DiNozzo said, "Cristina wouldn't tell McGee a damn thing but Cooper's not that bright or loyal; he flipped on both of them. His story checks with Henrietta's-says Ivenner wouldn't pay, they took him to rough him up a little and made her watch to scare her, but he says Bernie just went nuts. Started really wailing on Ivenner with the copper pipe and then he whacked him on the head. When they realized he was dead they talked it over for a minute, then Bernie went inside and came out with gloves on and the gun and shot Ivenner. Told Cooper he was gonna make Henrietta bury it with her bare hands in an easy to find spot so her prints would be all over it and the cops would think she shot him."

"It was the same gun that killed Garrison-two birds with one stone. What did Cooper say about Garrison?"

"Nothing. He seemed genuinely shocked that the gun was the same. I dunno, boss. I don't think Cooper had anything to do with Garrison. The Mueller kids did that on their own."

"But why?" Becca asked. "Garrison paid Mueller five years ago. Why would Bernie kill him now?"

"Bernie may be protecting his sister," Ziva said. "When Garrison was deployed after September Eleventh, his parents took out a half-million dollar life insurance policy on him. After they died the payout shifted to his wife."

McGee nodded. "Husband gone and hundreds of thousands; the Muellers could go anywhere they wanted and disappear. I wonder why they didn't?"

Gibbs pointed at Henrietta in front of the mirror. "Greed. They were waiting on their pay-day from bringing over Henrietta. They got greedy and it made them stupid."

Becca threw her hands in the air. "All this is circumstantial. We need that gun. We need the pipe so we can prove it came from Cooper's grandmother's house. All we can actually prove is that Ivenner was killed in her back yard."

"We'll get them," Gibbs whispered. "If the gun is in that lake we'll find it. And maybe we can cut Cooper a deal so he'll tell us where the pipe is. It's all falling apart for them-it'll keep falling."

Becca rubbed her arms. "So what do you usually do now?"

"I go get the prosecutor and take her to see Cooper. You guys...wait. Somebody's gotta be here when the call comes in about the gun."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

10

After three hours of playing Tetris, checking e-mails and surfing You-tube, Becca had that old feeling creep up on her again, the feeling like the piece of her brain that was trying to impose order and normality was steadily losing a battle to the part that wouldn't be able to sleep until the case was closed. When he spoke, McGee's voice felt like thunder shaking her brain.

"I can't take this," he announced. "I'm going to walk down to the deli; Tony, you want anything?"

"Steak and pepper sandwich."

"'Kay. Becca?"

She was not about to let this slide. "I'm coming with you," she said as she grabbed her jacket. DiNozzo looked aghast at her.

"You're gonna leave me here alone?"

"I have to walk, get out, do something. I'm going crazy."

"So it's alright if I go crazy?"

"Of course, you'll already crazy anyway."

The autumn wind picked up the tails of Becca's coat as she ran after McGee.

"Where are we going?"

He didn't turn to look at her. "This little place down the street at the corner."

His manner was so brusque that she suddenly felt she shouldn't have imposed on him. "I'm sorry," she said to his back. "You want to be alone. I can go back inside."

McGee sighed. "No, it's okay," he said as he waited for her to catch up to him. "This case is just starting to get to me."

"A wife killing her husband?"

"Nah, we see that all the time. I mean Ivenner. He was nineteen. I just keep thinking about what I was like at nineteen, how much of my life I hadn't lived yet. What if it had all ended there? What if I had never had a chance to do any of this?"

Becca fought the urge she suddenly had to slip her arm through his and take his hand. "But it didn't. You're not a nineteen year old kid, McGee, you're a grown man who helps put murderers in jail. Yes, Ivenner's dead. But Mueller's been caught, and you can't know how many other lives that saved. You can't undo what he did-all you can do is prevent what he would have done."

He smiled at her. "I keep forgetting you've been doing this almost as long as I have. You seem so young."

"It wears on me too sometimes. When we were in the morgue and I realized Ivenner's shoulders had torn apart, I just wanted to go home and bury myself in bed. But I try to remember that some day very soon we'll be able to tell Mrs. Ivenner that her son's killer will never hurt anyone ever again. We've been given the ability to do this, McGee. We can't just go home. We have a duty to humanity to use our talents to protect it."

He was quiet, and she thought maybe she had said too much. She bumped his arm with her shoulder.

"This place have good food?"

He nodded. "Great sandwiches. You should get the meatball mozzarella melt."

"Why?"

"Because the owner is an Italian from New York and it's his mom's recipe. Do you question everything?"

She made a face and mimicked him.

After they got the food he took her over to a table in the corner. She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Aren't we going to take Tony his sandwich?"

"He'll live for five minute. I'm starving right now."

And, he thought, I will probably not get hardly any opportunities to have lunch alone with you-I'll take them when I can.

"You were right. These meatballs do taste like New York."

"How long were you there?"

"Nine years. I graduated when I was sixteen and got accepted at NYU, so I moved to the city. Never left."

"Wait, you were living alone in New York when you were sixteen?"

She laughed. "No way! I was in the dorms-I lived with a hundred other girls."

"Still, I cannot believe your mother let you go."

"Yeah well, when Mum was sixteen she was shacked up in the basement of a King's Cross laundry with a forty-two year old street performer, so I'm sure the NYU dorms seemed pretty tame to her."

"This is Ducky's sister?"

"She's the baby sister of four boys. You have a little sister-quadruple that protective instinct and you'll understand the size of the rebellion."

"You said she was a little nuts."

Becca choked back the laughter that threatened her bite of sandwich, and a small smear of marinara streaked her chin.

"A little nuts? McGee, I've lived in every neighborhood in London, in a Virginia farmhouse, a cold-water Soho squat, a post-hippie commune, on the couch of a dozen two-week boyfriends-whenever Mum got bored with a place, she didn't fix it, she just found a new place. And she has a very short attention span."

McGee couldn't help it. His heart ached at the thought of her as a little girl being dragged behind like an extra piece of luggage and before he knew it, he reached out and gently wiped the sauce off her chin with his thumb. The way she stared at him with those big green eyes made him want to put his thumb in his mouth. Instead he forced himself to wipe it on his napkin.

"Thanks McGee," she whispered. He shrugged.

"No problem."

"No, I mean...thanks for making me feel...you know, okay here. Like I might really belong to the team someday."

"That wasn't me. You've earned that the last few days, earned that respect from all of us."

"Maybe, but I feel, with taking me to the dark room and at the bar last night, like you're really trying to make me welcome. I just want you to know I appreciate it."

He couldn't say anything. He couldn't do anything but look at her. After a second he wadded his dirty napkin into a ball and stood up.

"Come on. Tony's gonna be pissed as hell if his sandwich is cold."

DiNozzo did not even notice.

"Where have you guys been?" he started at them as they got off the elevator. "Cooper gave them the pipe-unees at the scene say it's got prints and blood on it. We got 'em!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

11

On a rare warm sunny morning in December, Becca realized all her usual work clothes were in the laundry hamper.

She had been trying since that first day two months ago to look as much like the other women in the office as possible, but today she was just going to have to make a choice-everyone could stare at her or she could smell bad. It was not a hard choice. Searching through all the glamazon clothing left from her private Manhattan detective days, she pulled out the most innocuous combo she could find-a long sleeve dark blue wrap dress and a white lacy camisole. At least she could still pin her hair up, and after just a brush of mascara and gloss and slipping into the lowest pumps she could find, she sighed and went to work, feeling very conspicuous

As soon as she got out of the elevator DiNozzo let her know it

"Yowzaa!" he called at her after a long whistle. "Bye bye Probee-Miss New York is back!"

"Don't get excited-I missed my laundry day somehow."

He looked her up and down exaggeratedly. "Well I definitely do not miss your laundry day."

"Can you please shut up so we can work?"

"From your lips to God's ears," Ziva muttered. Becca slipped her a smile. DiNozzo turned to McGee, who was studiously watching his computer screen.

"Watcha think, McGee? I say that is one killer dress."

McGee had seen it. He had watched her long, naked legs that he hadn't seen since that first day sway out of the elevator and swing around to her desk. He had felt his throat go completely dry when she had folded one over the other and had exposed just a little of the underside of her thigh.

"It's a nice dress," he acknowledged quietly.

"Everybody grab your cameras," Gibbs announced as he came around the corner. "We've got two dead Marines and Ducky says the scene is a mess. Ziva and Tony with me. McGee and Becca follow."

As Becca sat in the back seat loading a new battery into her camera, she noticed McGee trying to catch her eye in the review mirror.

"You got any plans for the holidays?" he finally asked. She hesitated.

"My mother's coming," she said. McGee looked back at her.

"All the way from England?"

"Granny's doing much better, so she's coming to stay a couple weeks with my sister's family."

McGee nodded. "Where does your sister live?"

"She and her husband have a few acres twenty minutes west of Richmond."

It was clear to her that McGee was having trouble making conversation.

"Are you going to see your sister for Christmas?" she asked him.

"Our mom lives in Baltimore-we always have a big get together."

"Do you..."

Suddenly the roaring scream of screeching tires filled her head and the light was blotted out, and then she felt her stomach go up (down? She didn't know) against her heart and then she was lying on her side on the floor of the car, her legs twisted behind her and her arm above her head tangled in the torn seat belt. Something soft and squishy like a wet dishrag was pressed against her face, and when she pulled her head back a little she realized it was the back of the driver's seat. It was wet with blood. A strange white smoke filled her nostrils and when she coughed pain shot through her side right under her skin.

"McGee?" she called out weakly, terrified. Her whole body relaxed when she heard his voice.

"Becca? You ok?"

"Um..." she said as she tried to touch the cut dribbling blood from her forehead and realized her arm was torn open. "I think I will be. How are you?"

"I'm..." She panicked at the pain in his voice. "I think my left shoulder is dislocated. The dash folded over and my legs are trapped. I can't see them but they feel...they feel ok." He twisted as best he could to look back at her. "Shit, Becca, you're bleeding all over."

"Not that bad. They're shallow, but I feel like my rib might be cracked. What happened?"

"Sideswipe. Must have been something big-I think the car flipped."

After a minute he pulled his phone out of his pocket with his free arm and dialed 911.

"The ambulance is on its way," he gasped out

"Call Gibbs," Becca answered. She tried to lift her head, and immediately a dull but growing ache crept from the back of her head to her brow. She felt an odd but familiar sensation too, like...like shower water running down her neck.

"McGee, how far are we from the hospital? The ambulance will be here soon?"

"Becca..."

"The back of my head feels really wet."

She could hear his breathing get heavy and fast. "Ok, ok, don't panic, just, uh, keep your head up as much as you can. Are you're legs ok? Can you sit up?"

"I don't know. My arm is cut and my other one is trapped. I'll try-Oh damnit!" she screamed as a flame of pane shot through her rib. She started to cry. "McGee, I'm scared."

"Just keep talking to me Bex. Don't stop talking to me. Your sister's got kids?"

"Uh..yeah, a little boy. Max."

"That must keep her busy."

"Yeah, she...she, um..."

"Becca!"

"I just feel so lightheaded. The roof of the car is spinning."

"Don't, don't go to sleep, don't close your eyes, talk to me! Bex!"

Becca felt a light pressure on her hand. She tried to open her eyes and they fluttered against the harsh white light that flooded them. For a second she thought she was dead, then she smelled the cold metallic odor of the sheets. A hospital. Okay then. She tried to turn her head to look around and a smooth small hand gently stopped her.

"No, don't move," she heard Abby's voice say. "You might pop your stitches."

"What happened? What...oh my God, McGee! Where's McGee?!"

"Shhh, he's fine. They put his shoulder back in and x-ray'd his legs, but they were just really bruised."

"Why do I feel so dizzy?"

"You've been asleep for several hours-the anesthesia is finally wearing off."

"I had surgery?"

"Don't worry about it now. Do you need any water?"

"Abby, please. I want to know. Tell me."

There was a long pause.

"You had a laceration on your forehead, a busted rib and a pretty nasty gash on your left arm, but you cracked open the back of your skull and your brain was swelling. They had to put in a shunt, and"

Suddenly Abby started to cry.

"What? Abby, what?"

"They had to shave your head. Your hair is gone."

Becca laughed until the pain in her side stopped her. "Abbie, if I could move I would kill you for scaring me like that."

"Hey."

Becca heard footsteps, and then Gibbs' face was floating over her. She sighed.

"Not being able to move my head really sucks."

"I called Duck; he's on his way. Do you want me to call Amy?"

"No, not until I can sit up and get around. I'm assuming there's a scary tube with nucky fluid in it coming out of my head. If she sees that she'll just freak out. Where're Tony and Ziva?"

"Talking to the cops. We got to the scene before they did. Right now it looks like a hung-over semi-driver couldn't keep it in his own damn lane."

"A semi. No wonder we flipped." Gibbs bent down and kissed her cheek.

"We will deal with all of this. Your job right now is to get better. One of us will be right here all the time-get some rest."

She smiled sleepily. "Is that an order, Boss?"

"Bet your ass."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

12

"I don't really need all this attention," Becca protested one week later as Amy and Mallard helped her into her apartment.

"Are you kidding me?" her sister asked. "You've got a hole in your head, a busted up arm and dizzy spells that are scaring the crap out of me. If you don't want me on your couch, just heal so I can leave."

Mallard settled her down on the couch and kissed her just beside her forehead stitches.

"I'm so sorry darling, but I have to get back to the morgue-I've got someone waiting on the slab."

She smiled. "The last thing I want is for the team to suffer. Go-I'll be back before you notice I'm gone."

"Doubtful."

Over the next three days Amy drove her to the hospital for daily check-ups. Finally her surgeon, after checking her head, told her she could leave the bandages off if she was really careful. Back at home, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror looking at herself. The girl looking back was her, like she had always been, just with a little cut over her eye. That girl was a liar.

"Hold the hand mirror up behind me, Amy," she told her. Amy shook her head.

"Bex, I don't think you want to..."

"Do it."

After a quick indrawn breath, Becca lifted her hair, raised her eyes to the mirror again and focused on the image behind her.

From the top of her scalp down, the skin of her head glowed white under a fine layer of red fuzz. Just above the nape of her neck ran two long raised welts pulled together with black sutures like the two halves of a laced corset. At the end was the shunt hole, puckered over with a fine layer of new pink skin. It reminded her of the bullet hole scar one of her partners in New York had shown her. The entire thing looked like a swollen exclamation point fallen on its side.

"Okay," she breathed. "It is what it is. Okay."

Amy put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "It'll be alright. Your hair will grow back and no one will ever know it's there."

"I'll know."

Later, just as Amy was cleaning up from lunch, her phone rang.

"No, I can't," Becca overheard her saying. "Because, Jack, I'm with Becca. Don't they have anyone else who can...no, I don't want to start this again. You know what Jack, fine. I'll take care of it."

"Bloody...Bex, I have to..."

"Jack got stuck at work, didn't he?"

"One of the servers crashed. There's no one else to pick up Max from day-care."

"Go. I'll be fine for a few hours. You can bring him back here."

"I'll call Gibbs. I'm not leaving you alone."

"I will be just fine-my arms work great now."

"Sure, and what if you have another dizzy spell, fall down and bust open your stitches? Hi, Gibbs..."

Becca hated this. Being treated like a baby because someone you loved was spoiling you was one thing, but being unable to do anything about it-having to admit it was necessary! She had lived a charmed life for someone with her job until this. Bullets that had just barely missed, swerves at the last minute in chases...but now she felt completely useless, like a dead weight around everyone's neck. She had never felt that before in her life.

"Gibbs said he'd send someone over. Look, Bex, I know this is driving you crazy, but the easier you take it the faster you'll heal and can go back to work. They're your team-let them help you."

Becca lay down on her stomach and turned her face to the back of the couch. After a while she heard a knock at the door, and Amy explaining the situation to someone, she supposed Ziva or Abby. Amy left and Becca heard footsteps coming towards her. She pulled herself upright and looked up.

McGee looked back down at her.

"Hi," she whispered.

"You look tired."

"Yeah." It was the first time they had seen each other since Becca had passed out in the wreck. She didn't say anything for a while, just scooted over to make room for him on the couch. They didn't need to talk. No one else knew what it had felt like, being trapped on the floor of that car bloody and woozy and terrified with only his voice anchoring her to reality.

"You're out of your sling," she said at last. He smiled nervously.

"Yeah, it's sore as hell and I don't have full range of motion yet but I can use it ok."

He nodded and then just looked at her, looked at her for so long that she began to think how ugly she must be, in her worn pajamas and limp, dirty half-hair, her face pale and drawn with dark circles under her eyes. She stood up.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

"Do you need help?"

"I have a bump on the head, McGee, I'm not senile."

Once inside she leaned on the vanity and looked in the mirror. She closed her eyes and thought back to that first day months ago, pictured McGee's face the first time he had seen her. She was used to men looking at her, but him standing there in his sodden coat and dripping hair, beads of water clinging to his long eyelashes with that open, artless stare on his face, had somehow struck her as so endearing. She thought of the way he had stared at her just now and grew nauseated. The last thing she could take was his pity.

A wave of hot anger swept over her and she ferociously yanked open the drawer and pulled out her electric razor. If she didn't want anyone else's pity she had to refuse her own. She had to look what had happened in the eye. The familiar buzz of the razor oddly comforted her, and her hand was steady and brave until right as it reached her scalp.

"Becca?"

At the sound of his voice an image of McGee flashed through her mind, of the night at the bar when she had let her hair down and he had gazed at it with his eyes full of desire. She threw the razor in the sink and it vibrated noisily against the drain.

McGee knocked gently on the door. "Becca, are you ok?" He cautiously eased the door open a crack. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she breathed as she pulled the razor out of the sink and sat up on the counter. She felt like a little girl caught stealing sweets as he looked at her with the pulsating razor in her hands.

"I just...I want it gone, but I couldn't. I couldn't do it." She felt the tears coming she looked in his eyes. "I need help."

He walked over to her and gently pulled the razor away and shut it off.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

She nodded and lowered her head. "I feel like half a woman with half my hair."

He brought his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath warm her lips. McGee tilted her chin up and made her look at him again.

"You could never be half a woman," he whispered fiercely. "You could never be half anything."

She felt so exposed as she clutched his collar and touched her forehead to his. A single wet drop slid down her cheek.

"McGee, I...that second between me calling your name and hearing your voice, that was the longest-I was so scared."

"You're ok," he whispered. "It's gonna be ok."

He turned the razor back on and gently moved her head down.

"You sure now?" he asked as he brought the razor up to her hairline. "No going back."

"Just take it off."

McGee was skillful. In five swift, silky strokes the rest of her hair lay in a pile between his feet. He rubbed the top of her head affectionately.

"You look good bald-you've got one of those smooth, tight egg-heads. I was bald once, and it was bad. My head's all funny and knobbly."

She grinned and hopped down, only to catch sight of his face going from smiling to horrified in the mirror. He was looking at the back of her head.

"McGee, don't."

He turned her around to get a better look and trailed his fingers gently down her neck just below the wound. When he spoke his voice shook with emotion.

"Jesus Christ, Bex."

She bit back tears. "Get used to it," she said harshly. "You'll be seeing it for a while."

McGee swallowed and closed his eyes as he tried to refocus before he looked at it again.

"It's not so bad I guess," he whispered. "It sort of looks like an..."

"...An exclamation point."

"Yeah." He slid his hands down her shoulders and rested them lightly on her elbows, trying to avoid her gash. His concern for her feelings was the only thing stopping him from pulling her into his arms. "So what now?"

She tipped her head back. "I hate this so much. There are two dead Marines and I should be helping to find their killer, not wallowing in my bathroom with a hole in my head." Suddenly she smiled so brilliantly at him he knew it was fake. "Let's get out of this cold white shiny room and go put in a movie or something. I'll make popcorn."

He didn't want to watch a movie. He wanted to find that drunk truck driver and slowly put a hole in the man's head for every second that he had sat in that car helpless and convinced she was going to die on him. But the pleading in her eyes forced him to smile for her. "You have popcorn?"

He still had his hands on her arms, and under them he felt her relax. "I have an old-school air popper."

"See? You have a new identity-the cool bald chick with the fabulous popcorn."

"Stop making stupid jokes and come sit on the couch with me. We have only a few hours of peace before Amy gets back with my insane screaming nephew."

"So...what are we watching?" he asked as she pulled out the popper.

"Stargate."

"I thought we were watching a movie."

She turned to look at him as he followed her into the kitchen. "Are you trying to tell me that Timothy Dr. Who McGeek never saw the original Stargate with James Spader and Kurt Russell?"

"I did not know there was even a girl on the planet who knew there was an original Stargate."

She gave him a light shove on the arm. "Get the food."

As he sat down on the couch she slid in close to him. Very close. She just couldn't help it. She had grown so fond of him over the past months and for a few horrible seconds she had thought she would never see him again. At that exact moment the force of her desire to be near him almost made her burrow against him like a puppy. She settled for their arms touching.

"Hello, you are so in my bubble," he said, but the look on his face was anything but chastising. She shrugged.

"Basic kinetics. I'm cold, you're warm. Deal with it."

He was indeed, very warm. It infused her body and made her feel lazy, peaceful in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, not since...well, New York was behind her now. She needed rest, she admitted to herself. She had done too much in trying to prove to Amy that she truly was fine, and here next to McGee she felt secure enough to admit it. By the time James Spader and the alien girl found out they both spoke ancient Egyptian, she could barely keep her eyes open.

"My head hurts," she mumbled. He looked at her, concerned.

"I didn't nick you, did I?"

"No," she sighed as she gave in and let her ear fall against his shoulder. "You were perfect. I'm just really tired."

He didn't say anything for a while. When he did, it was so soft that she felt rather than heard it.

"Maybe you should sleep then."

She nodded and snuggled just a hair's breadth closer to him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer-NCIS is so not mine at all.**

13

"McGee? McGee? McGee, they've found twenty-six dead Marines-you and I'll be working it over Christmas."

"Huh? What Boss?"

Gibbs looked down at him for a moment, wondering if the younger man has realized he had taking to staring at the empty desk across from him.

"McGee, you care to tell me what's going on?"

He nodded. "Well, it is five o'clock on Christmas Eve, everyone but you and me, including the janitor, has gone home, and I am sitting here in the dark."

Normally Gibbs didn't have the energy to tangle himself in his people's personal problems, but he had a feeling this one wasn't a tangle; that it was a perfect straight line and he knew exactly where it led. He pulled DiNozzo's chair over to McGee and sat down.

"Did you know Becca came to see me today? Asked if she could come back after Christmas."

"What did you say?"

"I told her the same thing I told her the last three times-that it all depended on what her doctor told me."

"I understand what she's going through, Gibbs. She feels worthless sitting at home, useless to the team."

Gibbs nodded. "Well, she is useless, right now, but I don't need her coming back too soon and getting sick so she's permanently useless. We close cases a little faster when she's around."

McGee smiled to himself. "You know how she is. Bex just can't sit still."

Gibbs looked surprisedly at him. "When did you start calling her Bex?"

"I don't know; it's her name."

"I was under the impression only her closest friends called her that."

"I..." McGee's eyes slipped past his boss back to Becca's empty desk. "We were in the car and she was bleeding everywhere, and I couldn't get to her, not even to hold her hand. Then she kept going in and out on me, trying to pass out, and I just started screaming it at her. I can't call her anything else now. I know, Gibbs."

Gibbs shook his head. "I don't..."

"I know about her being Ducky's niece and about you and her...you going out with her mom all those years ago. I've known for months."

Gibbs looked at him with the bright, wary gaze that McGee knew meant that a topic would absolutely not be discussed, then shrugged.

"Have you spoken to her lately?"

"Not since the day I went over to her place." Suddenly McGee found his head on the receiving end of a sound smack.

"Ow!"

"You know, you're pretty stupid for someone who went to MIT. Allright McGee, I am about to give you strict orders as your superior and they are to be followed. To the letter, do you understand?"

McGee looked horrified as he nodded. Gibbs pulled out his notepad.

"This is the name of a spirits shop I know will be open for another hour. You go there and buy a bottle of wine, a nice one. Fifty, sixty bucks. Then you're going to head down to Richmond as fast as you can without getting pulled over. You will go through the city and head west on the freeway for about fifteen minutes. Then," he said as he drew a quick sketch under the store name, "you will follow this map. It's to Becca's sister Amy's farmhouse-there's a party there tonight, people Amy and her husband know from work. You will knock, and when Becca answers the door..."

"...What if she's not the one at the door?"

"She's bored out of her mind and she has an obsessive need to be useful-trust me, she'll be answering the door. When she does, you are going to say hello, apologize for not calling, hand her the bottle of wine and ask if you can come in. When she says yes because she doesn't want to be rude, you are going to say hello to Amy and Jack, and have a few drinks and be personable. And if their mother finds you and smacks you on the ass because she's had too much Tequila, you will make a very witty comment and not look shocked. Do you understand?"

"You are ordering me, as my boss, to drive all the way out to Becca's sister's party and invite myself in?"

Gibbs leaned in closely. "McGee," he whispered. "You are not going to think about this-you are just going to get up now, put on your coat, and do what I told you to do."

After he was gone Gibbs took a last look around the deserted office.

"It's Christmas," he grunted into the dark. "Why do I always have to do everything for everybody?"

McGee trusted Gibbs, trusted that when Gibbs asked him to do something it was a good idea to do it, but by the time he pulled up the gravel road to Amy's house he was nervous as hell. He looked down at the seventy-six dollar bottle of French wine lying in the passenger seat and cursed himself. What would she think? She would be surrounded tonight by successful, confident, probably very good looking men and even with no hair, her eyes and mouth and body would be the focus of every male over twelve in the room. She wouldn't even look twice at him and he would sit on the couch for five minutes and then leave, and she would laugh at the jokes all the guys vying for her attention would make about him after he was gone. He was a huge fool.

Just follow orders, he told himself as he slowly unbuckled. Just don't think about it and follow orders.

He walked up the drive and looked in the window as he knocked on the door. The house glowed with warm lights and laughing people, pretty women and self-assured men. He wanted to leave the wine on the step and run. Then the door opened and he couldn't think of anything.

Becca stood in front of him in a green dress that showed not just her legs but her glowing arms, smooth shoulders and the irresistible curve of the tops of her breasts. Her hair had grown just enough to lie flat against her scalp, but somehow it only made her more incredible. Her glistening eyes looked bigger, the sculpt of her cheeks and chin more perfect. He started to speak the lines Gibbs had told him to say but a bit of light from the candles glowing in the entry behind her caught the notch of her collarbone and he couldn't say anything. He couldn't draw breath.

"McGee? What are you doing here?"

"I...I'm supposed to say that I'm sorry I haven't called and to tell you Merry Christmas and to give you this." He held the bottle out. She didn't take it from him at first, just looked down at it with an expression he couldn't even begin to read.

"Is there anything else you're supposed to do?"

Ouch.

"I'm supposed to ask if I can come in."

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

There was one single thought belonging only to him in his entire brain.

"You look beautiful."

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes as if she were in pain, and when she opened them to look at him he thought (maybe it was just the candle light) that they held the hint of a tear. She reached out for the wine, but caught his wrist instead. Her touch instantly lit his skin on fire, and he burned as she slid her fingers down and off his hand to grasp the bottle.

"Come in then," she whispered.

She turned around and McGee swallowed hard-the back of her dress was empty down past the middle of her back. His cruel brain refused to spare him the thought that she probably couldn't be wearing a bra.

"McGee? Are you in there? You remember my sister Amy Newell?"

"What? Yes, Amy, how are you?" I don't mean to crash; I just stopped by to check on Bex."

Amy smiled. "Oh come on now, Agent McGee. It's Christmas Eve. If you don't have any other commitments, we'd love for you to stay a while. I'm afraid you missed our uncle-he was here but he went home early."

"That's ok-I gave him his gift already."

Becca led him through the crowded living room to the kitchen and dug out an ice bucket. "You gave Duck a present?" she asked as she started digging ice out of the freezer."

"Here, let me do that, you'll hurt your hands. I got him titanium forceps. His old ones were all scratched up from banging into slugs. Wait, where are you going with that?" he asked as she started carrying the iced wine out to the living room. She gave him a blank look.

"What's the matter?"

"I...nothing. Whatever."

"Why can't I take the wine out?"

"I don't know these people Bex. I bought the wine for you."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, never mind. It's your wine-do what you want with it."

She set the bucket down on the counter and gave him the look she gave suspects who lied to her.

"I just don't understand you. You always act like...like you want to tell me things but it's just not worth it. Do you think I won't get it or something? I wish once you would just say what you want to say and quit sulking around."

He took a step towards her. "Are you mad at me or something?" He knew as soon as it came out that he shouldn't have said it. Her eyes glowed like she wanted to break the wine over his head.

Becca grabbed his arm forcefully and took him through the kitchen out to the back porch. They stood alone in the dark, and she stepped very close to him just to see his face.

"Are you kidding me? 'I'm supposed to say,' 'I'm supposed to ask,'? I'm not stupid, McGee; is the thought of giving me a call or staying to chat for a few minutes with me such a burden to you that Gibbs has to tell you to do it? 'I bought the wine for you' my ass. Gibbs told you to bring the goddamn wine so you wouldn't look like a jerk showing up empty handed!"

The level of her ire scared him speechless. He'd seen Becca question a rapist and stare down a man who electrocuted his CO without even a twitch of the jaw. As he racked his brain for something to say, she abruptly wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. I'm just going so crazy not being able to work; I've been losing it all week. I screamed at my brother-in-law before the party for letting carrot peel fall in the garbage disposal. The wine is lovely and I'm glad you came to see me and you're not a jerk and I won't take it out to the party-I'll take it home and save it for something special, I promise and I'm smothering you," she babbled, and let go of him. He thanked God for the dark so she couldn't see how his face fell when she pulled away.

"I should have called," he admitted.

"No, I'm sure you were very busy."

"Not that busy. I don't know, I just-we've known each other for three months. We're colleagues, we work together, but since the crash I've been trying to avoid this stupid, irrational feeling that going through something like that together gave us a sort of connection. I know that doesn't make sense. It happened so fast."

She was quiet a long moment. At last she shoved his shoulder playfully. "You know what Amy's been telling people? They ask why the hospital shaved my whole head and she says they didn't, but that my close friend from work thought I should have a second job as an anarchist bomber's assistant."

He laughed. "You corrected them, I hope."

She squeezed his hand. "No. That day's between us."

She was so close to him and in the dark McGee knew that she couldn't perceive the desire in his eyes or the tense press of his lips-he could kiss her and she wouldn't even see it coming or have time to pull away. He cleared his throat.

"I'd better get going. I've crashed long enough."

"You've only been here ten minutes- stay, have a drink."

"No, I have to-I promised my mom and sister that I'd be in tonight. We do Christmas pretty early in the morning."

"Okay," she said as they walked back through the kitchen to the front door. "We can't have you hung-over in front of your mother."

"Tell your sister thanks. You'll be back after Christmas?"

She nodded. "Called Gibbs a few hours ago. I'll be back the day after tomorrow." Suddenly she put her hand up to his cheek and ran her thumb along his jaw. "Thank you McGee," she whispered.

He just nodded and left. He had to leave. He could not could not could not pin her up against the wall and kiss the hell out of her in front of all those people in her sister's house.

After he left, Becca went back to the kitchen and wrapped a wide piece of masking tape around the bottle. In bold black sharpie, she wrote 'Bex's special X-mas present-touch on penalty of death,' and put it in the fridge.

**So there're the first 13 chapters that I put up when I published it-what do you think? I know it's moving a little slowly right now, but I promise that massive jealousy, fighting, getting blown up, gross bodies, creepy stalkers and lots of smut are coming very soon!!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS**

14

"Why is he only wearing one shoe?"

Becca, Ziva and DiNozzo stood over the body of Midshipman Geoffrey Jacobs, blue-cold and naked save for one dirty sneaker on his left foot, slumped against the side of a dumpster. DiNozzo cocked his head at him.

"It's a message from the killer-like a dead fish in newspaper or a horse head in the bed. There's gotta be a mob dictionary somewhere that tells us what one shoe means."

Ziva gave him a dirty look. "Maybe it means the killer grabbed at his foot to stop him and the shoe came off."

Becca pouted her lip. "My question is, yeah, where's the left shoe, but why's the right one still here?"

"Are you serious?" They turned around to see Gibbs behind them. "An entire body, crime scene and dumpster and you are all standing around staring at a shoe?"

"It's weird," DiNozzo said. Gibbs nodded in sarcastically exaggerated comprehension.

"It's weird. Do we know the COD?"

They shook their heads.

"Ah. Do we know if he was killed here, brought here...?"

Nope.

"Hmmm. And why is no one in the dumpster?"

Becca threw her hand in the air. "Oh me. Pick me."

Her two partners looked at her like she was an alien. She shrugged.

"It is frickin' cold out here. Decomposition is warm."

Gibbs handed her a pair of plastic booties, and DiNozzo pouted.

"I never get the boots."

"She volunteered."

"Do I get the boots if I volunteer?"

"No."

Gibbs lifted Becca into the dumpster. The horrid feeling of squishy fetid rot rising up around her feet gave way in seconds to a delicious heat giving life back to her numb toes. She smiled over her shoulder at DiNozzo and Ziva.

"You guys stand there and stay clean and pretty while you freeze our asses off. I'm gonna get all dirty and smelly and warm."

An hour later, with Becca up to her elbows in scuzy garbage and trying to hide from DiNozzo that she was having fun, the local PD arrived. Dinozzo broke into a big smile as a young black detective got out of the car.

"Barnes!" he called out as he rushed up to slap the man's back. "When did you make detective?"

"Couple years ago. How you been, DiNozzo?"

"Buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about it. Ziva, this is Cody Barnes-we were unees together back in the day. Barnes, Ziva David."

"Damn, DiNozzo," Barnes said as he took Ziva's hand and kissed it. "How do you concentrate with such a good-looking woman around?"

Ziva smirked at Dinozzo. "You know, if you were this charming you might get a little farther in life."

Just then a loud bang echoed through the ally. The three of them turned towards the dumpster.

"Are you ok, Becca?" Ziva called out.

"Yeah! Trying to move a busted boombox. Damn thing's slippery!" Barnes turned back to DiNozzo.

"Please tell me you do not have a lady going through that dumpster while you stand over here chewing the fat with me."

"It's ok!" Becca called out, then stood up to get some air. "I volunteered."

A very handsome man with deep brown eyes and a big smile looked back at her. Her chilly face suddenly felt too warm.

"Did you now?" the man whispered as he came forward and shook her hand. "Cody Barnes. Sugar, what are you doing going through the trash on this freezing morning?"

"Finding interesting things like these," she answered while she reached back down and pulled up a torn t-shirt and a pair of jeans stained with dried and frozen blood. "Tony, get some evidence bags and come get me outta here."

"Allow me," Barnes said as he held out two strong tendon-laced hands to her. She eased herself into them and hoped that her red cold-chapped cheeks hid her blush. He held her for just a moment and smiled when she didn't back away.

"Are you just gonna stand here in my arms or tell me your name?"

"Becca," she whispered. She pulled away from him just as the surprising thought entered her head that she really didn't want to. She took a breath and changed the subject.

"So why is the DCPD working this case?"

"We're not, but we found a dead kid in almost the same spot two days ago. Captain wanted us to come check it out."

"You think it's the same perp?"

"Maybe, but...our kid was really bad off. Broken bones, stab wounds. Your guy doesn't have much more than bruises."

"Why don't you call Agent Gibbs and let him know? He's pretty good about keeping local in the loop if they need to be."

"I'd rather call you."

There was no mistaking her blush this time-as soon as she felt it she saw Barnes' sweet smile spread into a big grin. She looked away from his eyes to calm herself down and towards Dinozzo and Ziva. Dinozzo had his eyebrows up to his hairline in obvious amusement, but Ziva's expression struck her. It was almost cold. If Becca didn't know better, she would think Ziva was irritated with her. Barnes moved his head so all she could see was his eyes.

"Did you hear me, Sugar? I said I'd like to give you a call."

"We just started a murder investigation, you're on the trail of a dead teenager, and you want to call me?"

He shrugged. "Man can't stop living just 'cause others keep dying."

Becca thought about it for just a second, then mentally shrugged. It had been three and a half months since she'd left New York. Time to move on. She took her sharpie out of her pocket and wrote her number on his hand.

"Give me a few days. I won't be able to have fun until we've got a better handle on our sailor."

After local took off and DiNozzo helped Ziva and Becca bag the corpse, Becca asked DiNozzo about Barnes.

"Not much to tell. Started off at the same precinct as his old man back in Charleston. He transferred up here with his wife seven or eight years ago, but that didn't last much longer. Always knew he'd make detective someday. Look," he said as they got in the van, "I know you just met him, but he's a good man, and he gets the job. People like us, it's always really important to find someone who gets the job."

Becca nodded. "I'll definitely think about it. Let's just get this poor guy back to Duck."

* * *

While Becca and DiNozzo were downstairs with Ducky, Ziva slid into her desk and looked across at McGee, who was immersed in the electronic remnants of Jacobs' life. Finally realizing someone was staring at him, he looked up to meet his partner's suspicious brown eyes.

"What?"

"Are you ever going to make a move on Becca?"

McGee looked right and left cautiously before he scowled at her.

"Why are we talking about this? I told you that three months ago."

Ziva's face grew incredulous. "Oh? Are you telling me that things have changed?"

Yes, he thought. That day I just wanted her. Big difference from being in love with her.

"No, nothing's changed."

"One of Tony's friends from DCPD asked her out today. I think she'll say yes."

"Wait, you just got back from the crime scene. He asked her out at the crime scene?"

"Asked for her number, and he did not strike me as the sort of man to take his time."

McGee swallowed hard. "Well, she's a grown woman. She has a right to date whom she pleases. Besides, we work together. It's not a good idea." Ziva scoffed.

"If two people are supposed to be together I do not think that working together should get in the way."

McGee smiled at this prime example of the blind leading the blind. "Right, Ziva," he smirked.

Their two partners came back upstairs with Gibbs.

"He was moved- there was no blood, but Ducky says Jacobs bled out-he found a puncture on the left carotid." Becca shook her head.

"What is it with this guy and the left side?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "It could just be coincidence." Gibbs nodded.

"Right now I want to start building a background. Ziva, you and Tony go talk to Jacobs' CO-Becca and McGee take the missus."

On the way to the Jacobs' house the two of them rode in silence-McGee didn't know how to talk to her without bringing up what Ziva had said, and Becca sat lost in thought about whether it was a good idea to go out with someone she'd known for three minutes, regardless of whether or not DiNozzo vouched for him. She knew her partner was a ladies' man and a huge flirt, but she didn't think he would let her go out with someone he didn't think was worth it.

"So, I hear you're dating one of Tony's friends?"

The nervousness in McGee's voice registered, but she brushed it aside as awkwardness. It was the first time they had driven together since the accident. She laughed just a little too late to be nonchalant.

"Yeah, well then I guess someone forgot to tell me. He asked for my number, that's all."

"Did you give it to him?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to go out with him when he calls you?"

Now the awkwardness was real. She ran her hands over her armrest. "Did I tell you how much I like this new car? The leather seats are really nice."

He ignored her attempts. "I'm not prying, Bex. I just...we're friends and I just want to know how your life is going. I'd tell you if I were dating someone."

She rolled her eyes. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Yeah, ok, so I don't go out that much. I'm just really dedicated to my job."

"And I'm not?"

"Don't be like that. Face facts, Bex; you hate to bring it up or have people notice it, and that's to your credit, but a girl like you, if a man has to bend his schedule backwards to get a little time with you, he'll do it. I have to make time myself, and it's just hard."

"You drive me crazy when you talk about yourself that way. And I have no desire for Barnes to turn his life upside down for me, which since he's a homicide detective he can't anyway. Besides, he'll probably be late."

McGee smiled sadly at her. "To quote a smart woman, somehow I doubt that."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS**

15

He was not late. He was on time, even though he insisted on picking her up, and he came to the door with a bunch of red roses and a devastating smile. She answered in her slip and stocking feet and he waited for twenty minutes while she got the hang of wearing make-up for the first time since she had gone bald. When she came out, he didn't even ask for the apology she offered.

"I'm sorry, but you're lucky-if I still had all my hair you'd probably have been sitting there for an hour."

"Don't sweat it. You know, you're the only white girl I ever saw who can pull of hair that short."

It was the right thing to say, and she blushed at how quickly he'd gotten her pulse.

He drove her to a tiny back door Italian place and the waiter brought two glasses of a deep red wine without being asked. Becca raised her brow and Barnes laughed.

"Ok, so I come here a lot. Should have known I couldn't fool a girl with a masters in psychology."

"You called Tony and asked about me."

"A gorgeous red-head crime fighter? Man's gotta know what he's getting into. Can I ask you a question?"

She nodded.

"What was your hair like before?"

"Long, very curly and just barely under control."

He smiled at her, what her mother used to call an ice cream smile, like melting ice cream in summer where you don't even know what's happening until it dribbles on your hand and you shudder.

"So you and Tony? Nothing? I'd assume a player like my old boy would be on you in two seconds."

She laughed. "He might have, but there's a rule against team members fraternizing. It's better to just steer clear of that sort of thing."

"So you're trying to tell me that he doesn't even flirt with you?"

"I haven't been...I've been avoiding that scene. Honestly, I had a really bad break-up right before I moved from New York and I've just now been able to..."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"It seems so simple now, but...I'd been dating this guy for three years. Everybody thought we'd get married someday, including me. He had this gorgeous partner, and one night when I decided to surprise him by joining him on a stake-out...I guess I was the one in for the surprise."

Barnes whistled, and she thought more of him for the brief look of rage she caught in his eye before he suppressed it. "Good thing you came down here. A Southern gentleman would never do that to a lady like you."

They chatted for hours, lingering over a fantastic, robust Italian meal that reminded Becca of the city she'd left, and after what seemed like only minutes they were at the door of her building.

"Well, good night." Barnes reached out for her waist and pulled him to her.

"Wait a minute now. A man doesn't do all that work for no reward."

"If you think you're coming in you're crazy," she said firmly, but she didn't pull away from him. He smiled as he bent his head towards her.

"You city girls are all the same," he whispered. "Lightning in a bottle."

He kissed her softly, undemandingly, just gently pulling at her lips without asking for anything else, and when they parted she discovered that, tall as she was, she had stood on her toes to reach him.

"See you 'round, Sugar," he said as he turned around and left. She waited for him to drive out of sight before grabbing her phone.

"Amy? It's me. I think I may have met somebody."

* * *

Gibbs thudded himself down into his desk chair and sighed. The Jacobs case was going no where-they almost never came up with this sort of lack of information. The wife was in love and distraught with no idea of her husband having any enemies, his CO reported a clean-cut dutiful sailor who made himself welcome with anyone and all of his shipmates seemed to agree. The only thing they had was Mallard's report; the body had several defensive wounds and bruising, and Gibbs had been tempted to write it off as a robbery, but for two things. The wound on the jugular was not a stab but a puncture, and the feeling in his gut. Now he'd just been contacted by the DCPD that another dead sailor had been found, this time a Commander Krista Beechman. If there was one thing Leroy Gibbs hated, it was two open cases at same time.

He tapped his pencil on the desk and willed himself to think about something else. Becca. She'd fallen back into rhythm like nothing had happened, not even wanting to suggest that she might want to talk about the accident. He himself couldn't-at least not just yet. Becca had passed out, and therefore didn't have a real memory of how close they had actually come to losing her. She seemed to be taking life in stride, and he didn't want to curtail that by making her remember unpleasant things. He'd heard through the grapevine she'd started dating a friend of DiNozzo's from the DCPD. He sounded like a nice guy, but....well, no matter. McGee's personal problems were his personal problems, and he was Becca's boss, not her father. The kids would just have to sort their own issues out. He grabbed his coat and headed to the scene.

When he got there Mallard, Becca and DiNozzo stood over an attractive brunette woman in her mid-forties, white and stiff in a frozen pool of shiny blood.

"From the temperature," Mallard said as he stood to greet Gibbs, "she was killed sometime before ten pm last night, but with the body frozen there's not much more I can tell you. We'll have to thaw her before any bruising shows up, but..."

Gibbs eyes his ME. "But..."

"Cause of death is fairly obvious. A puncture wound to the left carotid."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Gibbs?"

He looked down to where Becca knelt over the body. She gently brushed Beechman's matted hair behind her ears so everyone could see. In the left ear, a small diamond stud. In the right, nothing.

"Damn it," Gibbs whispered. DiNozzo, unusually sober, pulled out his phone.

"McGee, we need you to check on all recent murder cases in the DC area where something a person would have two of, anything, was taken from the right side and not the left."

Becca shook her head. "It won't be enough. We don't know if he's an opportunistic killer or if he stalks specific victims. Jacobs was moved to behind the dumpster but Beechman was obviously killed here, he was naked but she's fully clothed-this bastard doesn't even have a solid MO. He could be from anywhere."

Mallard began separating the body from glue-like frozen blood that held it to the concrete. "Will you put out an APB?"

"No," Gibbs said. "Everybody's got a police scanner these days. Bex, call the office, tell them to start personally contacting the larger east-coast precincts. Keep it quiet."

"Just east coast? Not Chicago or Houston?"

"No. The only thing in common with these murders besides the COD and the right-side theft is that both of them were found on the dock front-he's comfortable by the water."

As Gibbs walked away, Becca eyed DiNozzo. He had seen that look in her eye on occasion, the first when she had asked him to look into Lieutenant Garrison's wife.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this theft, this left-side right-side thing, reminds me of a case I worked right out of college for the NYPD."

"Yeah? And what was that guy's issue?"

"Trophy hunting."


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry this last was a few days late-poor PC picked up a virus:( Thank you so much for the reviews and hope y'all keep reading and enjoying!!**

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS**

16

"Ok, lets compile what we know," Gibbs said as the five of them stood together in the office. "McGee?"

McGee shook his head. "Both Jacobs and Beechman had clean records and even cleaner personal lives. Nothing there."

"Maybe not but it's something they share. What else."

"Both had defensive wounds so they probably didn't know their attacker," Becca said. "Jacobs was a young fit military man-our guy's big, strong. He'd stand out. Whether attractive or not, women would notice him, remember him."

DiNozzo got off the phone. "That was Abbs. She says there're traces of industrial grade steel in the wounds, and Ducky says we're definitely looking at a puncture, not a stab."

"Well that only narrows it down to about fifteen thousand possibilities," Becca muttered. McGee caught the frustration in her eye and just barely brushed the edge of her hand with his.

Ziva pursed her lips. "They are both in the Navy. Do not look at me that way, Tony, I know it's obvious, but how often do we catch a possible serial killer? He is targeting naval personnel."

Becca sat down and bit her knuckles. Gibbs looked down at her.

"Seen that look before. What is it?"

"He wants something-these killings are a means to an end. A twenty-seven year old black midshipman and a middle-aged white officer. One moved from the murder scene and stripped naked and another left to bleed out where she was attacked. One male and one female. He's not identifying the victims with anyone, recreating an event or releasing sexual frustration. He leaves a signature-he wants law enforcement to know it's his work, even if we don't know who he is. He wants something and he thinks these murders will get it for him."

"You think the fact they were both in the Navy is a coincidence?"

"No, I...I don't know, maybe. We won't really know until..."

"Until we have another body."

They didn't have to wait long.

"Petty Officer Gabriella Ortega, twenty nine," Gibbs said four days later as everyone circled around the body of a pretty woman with short black hair, her coat and shirt opened to reveal a blood-soaked polka-dotted bra on her ashen torso, her hands folded neatly in her lap-the left one gloved, the right bare. On the left side of her conveniently tipped to the right neck, a crusted puncture wound. DiNozzo shuddered.

"Is this starting to make anyone think of a deformed one-fang vampire?"

Gibbs ignored him. "No blood trail. This one was moved." Ziva shook her head.

"Why all these different states of dress and undress? It almost feels like he's being deliberately random."

Becca took a deep breath and leaned against the shipyard storage unit behind them. "Well at least now we know he's definitely targeting the Navy. Has anyone contacted McGee? Do any of our field offices have anything like this? The DCPD?"

"No," Gibbs said. "They've got similar COD's but this thing with the left...they can't find anything."

"So this guy one day said, 'I'm going to start killing DC area naval personnel by puncturing their neck with a steel instrument, attempt to look random in the way I do it and yet indulge my freakish obsession with the left side of the body.' Why? What triggered him?"

Ziva stared at the body. "Ok, think. This man is ordered-even his attempts at randomness are obviously prepared. He most likely has a plan that he follows."

DiNozzo nodded. "He'll want to keep things the same as much as possible."

"Call McGee," Gibbs said. "Tell him to check our victims credit receipts again and look for similarities-stores, clubs, restaurants. This guy probably has a place he trolls. And see if Abby got anything from the different tire treads we picked up."

* * *

That night in bed in her new duplex in Falls Church, Becca couldn't sleep. She'd dealt with serial killers before, but they were almost always of the psychotic, unstable sort-sexual deviants, mental cases seeking some sort of closure or cure from their rages. This guy felt totally different, and it unnerved her tremendously. Barnes reached over and stroked her arm.

"This case has really got you, huh Sugar?"

She shrugged. "As much as I hate to admit it, I sort of have a talent for 'getting' serial killers, and this guy's rubbing me a weird way. He's different. I don't know how yet, I just..."

He started to rub her shoulders. "You should let me take care of you. You know, take your mind of it for a while." She smiled as his hands slid down her lower back.

"Oh yeah, you're completely selfless," she whispered as she leaned back to kiss him. Just as their lips touched her phone went off and she groaned. Barnes picked it up and looked at the screen.

"It's your best friend," he said sarcastically as he handed it to her. She checked the caller id and rolled her eyes at him as she flipped it open.

"Hey McGee. What's up?"

"You need to come in-Tony started calling up contacts on a hunch and he's got something huge."

"What is it?"

"Uh-uh. Gibbs said you need to come in."

"It's eleven o-clock. I'm in bed."

Barnes muttered something about workaholics loudly enough to be heard, and McGee was quiet for a moment. For some reason she didn't understand, Becca felt embarrassed. When he spoke again McGee's voice was very curt.

"Ok then. I'll just tell Gibbs that the princess can't come do her job because it's late and she's warm and toasty in her bed." Becca squeezed the phone until her knuckles hurt.

"Don't be an asshole," she hissed. "I'm coming."

Barnes slid an arm around her as she tried to get out of bed.

"Let me drive you," he whispered in her ear. "It's dark and cold and that damn junkmobile of yours makes me nervous."

Becca shook her head as she pulled on her jeans. "I don't know how long this'll take and Gibbs would never let you help-you'd just be sitting there."

"At least promise me if the weather gets bad you'll leave the car at the Yard and let someone drive you back."

"Don't worry," she said with a kiss. "McGee can bring me home."

"You two spend a lot of time together."

Becca heard the edge in his voice but pretended she didn't. "We're partners, Cody. You know how it is."

"You're DiNozzo's partner too. And Ziva's."

"Yeah well, when we split up it's normally Tony and Ziva, and McGee and me. We work well together-it's a natural pairing."

"It's a what?"

Becca sighed from the depths of her coat. "Do we really have to talk about this? I work with McGee. You're my boyfriend. End of discussion."

"I just want you to make sure he knows that."

"He does," she said, and walked out the door before Barnes could comment on the insecurity in her voice.

* * *

When Becca arrived everyone was gathered around a video conference with a man she knew well.

"Commissioner Martin?" she asked as she approached the digital rendering of the familiar face of her old boss's boss's boss. He greeted her and continued with the meeting.

"I'm having the twenty-third send you everything they've got. Six cases spanning two months. I'm also sending Detectives Triss and Pellagrino down to liaise with you." Gibbs raised his brows.

"Is it necessary?" Martin grimaced.

"This case has a personal element of a sensitive nature I'd rather not talk about over Skype. Pellegrino can tell you about it. Good luck." He nodded in Becca's direction. "All of you."

Gibbs asked McGee to fill Becca in and went to wait on the faxes.

"Tony decided to attempt a wider search and called old DCPD contacts scattered around the country. A captain in the Bronx told us to contact the twenty-third precinct," McGee told her. "Six bodies, no connections other than that they were all on the twenty-third's home turf. Puncture wound to the left carotid artery, unexplained meaningless deviations in body condition and situation in every murder."

"And articles were missing from the right side?"

McGee shuddered. "That depends on what you call articles."

"McGee..."

"Body parts, Bex. The right ear, thumb, big toe, nipple, heel and eyeball respectively. Removed after death."

Becca closed her eyes and grabbed the corner of his desk to steady herself. He had decelerated from more violent methods. A decelerating serial killer was a beast so rare it terrified her. When she opened her eyes McGee looked at her like he could see right into her mind, and suddenly she was annoyed.

"Why didn't you tell me it had to do with New York?"

"You had company."

She clenched her teeth. "Cody's DCPD, McGee."

"He doesn't have authorization to know the workings of an NCIS investigation."

"And you think I would have told him?"

"He's your boyfriend, Bex."

"What is your problem with Barnes, McGee? Ever since I started dating him you've been weird about it."

His eyes flashed and she instantly wished it unsaid-she wasn't sure she was prepared for every answer he might give.

"He called Tony a few days ago," McGee whispered. "He asked him about the case."

Becca felt her breath leave her for a moment. "He knows this case is wearing on me," she said at last. "He just wants to help."

"He doesn't have the right."

Becca nodded and thought, thought about how she and McGee hadn't been able to do anything together recently without bickering, how every time she said anything about wanting to get home early or having something to do he seemed to get uncomfortable, how he had been letting her go out into the field without him more and more. She thought of how touchy Barnes became every time she mentioned her partner and in the back of her mind she realized the clouds were gathering but she did something totally out of character for her-she ignored it.

"How bad is it outside?" she asked. McGee checked his computer and whistled.

"Dropped about thirty degrees this last hour-snow expected."

Just then the power blacked out. Gibbs' shout of frustration from the copy room echoed around the hallway. Abby came running up the stairs.

"I was about to make an id on the only set of tires at all three scenes!" she wailed. "I got '1997 Fo-' and then I couldn't see the tip of my nose!"

Gibbs came back out with DiNozzo and Ziva.

"It's about to get worse out there-might as well go home and get some sleep. I put in a call-everything'll be back up by nine tomorrow." Becca looked at McGee.

"My car's been acting up. Can you give me a ride home?"

"That never stopped you before."

She blushed. "I promised Cody I wouldn't drive it if it looked bad."

"I told you," McGee said as they exited the building. "You should have had me come with you to pick out your car. That thing is a disaster waiting to happen."

"It's fine, it just takes a little bit to get going in the mornings."

"You know nothing about cars, Bex! You've been living in New York since you were old enough to even drive at all! Is it still making the sput-sput noise when you turn it on?"

She knew him well enough to know what he was really saying. "I keep my cell phone on, McGee, and I take the back roads so I don't get into heavy traffic. I won't get in a wreck."

He shook his head. "I should just come over and overhaul the whole thing. You need a new transmission and engine and...hell, you need a better car."

She knew she needed a better car-when she wasn't hearing it from McGee she got an earful from Barnes. She was tired and cold and the fact that the killer had come from New York made her feel like a failure, like she should have recognized the case and called the twenty-third weeks ago. She laid her head in her hands and watched the headlights pass them on the highway.

"Let's just stop talking," she whispered. "We've been arguing so much lately. I hate it when we fight."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Ziva and Tony aren't like this."

McGee said nothing. They pulled up in front of her place and she saw his jaw flinch a little at the sight of Barnes' police cruiser in the driveway. Just as she got out of the car McGee reached up and put his hand over hers.

"You really like him, don't you?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes." He took his hand away.

"Ok."

She stood in the driveway and watched his taillights fade, like two red eyes watching her, until he turned a corner and she was looking at darkness. She felt a flood of light at her back and turned to see Barnes standing in the open doorway.

"It's cold out here, Sugar. Come inside with me."

She hesitated, just for a brief second and he didn't see it, but she felt it and recognized it. Later, after Barnes had fallen asleep, she got up and took out her phone to look at her call list. McGee, McGee, work, Tony, McGee, Barnes, McGee, Gibbs, McGee, McGee, McGee...she ran her fingers over the smooth buttons and realized that the number of the three button was almost worn away. McGee's speed-dial number. She batted back a surprising tear and pushed it.

"Hey. Did I wake you? No, I'm ok..."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

17

The next morning Becca woke to two smells-frying bacon and the accompanying sense of trouble. Barnes only cooked breakfast for two reasons-incredible sex the night before or because he was sautéing out aggravation. Sure enough, when she entered the kitchen he was aggressively flipping pancakes like two turncoat suspects.

"It's not the pancake's fault you didn't do your bench presses this morning," she said nervously. He didn't laugh, and when he turned to her his grip on the spatula told her she was in for something.

"Who brought you home last night?"

"McGee."

"Had to be him, huh?"

She shrugged. "I told you I'd get a ride from him." Becca narrowed her eyes at him. "What's going on? I thought we discussed this last night."

"No," Barnes clipped angrily, "no, we discussed nothing. You laid down a law, and I didn't push it. Well guess what? This morning I'm pushing it!"

Guilt over her four a.m. phone call washed over her, and to hide it she slammed the pantry door and shoved the coffee at him.

"What do you want, Cody? You want me to quit? You want me to tell McGee I can't talk or work with him anymore? I'm with him because he's my partner! I spend as much time with you as our schedules allow-you know that! You spend just as much time with Gerald, and you don't see me getting worked up over him!"

"Gerald isn't trying to get my damn panties off!"

Now she felt murderous. "What are you trying to say? Cut the fucking sarcasm and just say it!"

"I am a detective just like you! I read people, and what I read off McGee is a guy who thought he had plenty of time to work on the woman he wanted and one morning bam! she's waking up with someone else and he's pissed! I am not the kind of man to stand by and let another man scope on my girl without doing something about it!"

"You are so full of shit! Just last night he basically told me he was fine with us! There's nothing there! You don't have any excuse for your damn possessiveness so you're making shit up!"

"Really? Nothing there?" He reached in his pocket and pulled out her phone and threw it past her head to land in the couch cushions. "Then you tell me what the hell you were talking about at four in the fucking morning that you couldn't talk about at the Yard!"

"You went through my phone! That's the phone Gibbs calls on, Cody, and Vance! You don't touch that fucking phone!"

"You tell me right now. Do you want out of this?"

"If I wanted out of this you wouldn't be here right now. I'm going to get dressed; I have to leave for work."

"Eat breakfast."

"Seriously? You think I'm gonna eat your food right now?"

"You need to eat something."

"I am so tired of this! My car, my eating habits, how I communicate with my partner-you're not my father, Cody! If you want someone to baby and take care of, you picked the wrong girl!" He put his hands in the air.

"You know, fine. I'll put yours in the fridge. Eat it when you want. We'll leave when you're ready."

* * *

Becca sat at her desk going through the case files NYPD had sent them, her mind ping-ponging between the cases and Barnes. She looked up and caught McGee sneaking a glance at her.

"You ok?"

She sighed. "Yeah, just...I don't know, rough night."

"You want to talk?"

She did. She wanted desperately to tell him everything and hear him say that it was all preposterous, that Barnes was paranoid and that of course she was just his partner and his friend but...she remembered how as he had held her head steady when he ran the razor over it, his thumb had caressed the tip of her ear like a kiss, and she fought back a choke in her voice.

"Nah. It'll be okay." They turned when DiNozzo came in.

"Boss says everybody in the conference room. The NYPD detectives are here."

Becca only barely recognized Detectives Andrew Triss and Nina Pellagrino from their profile photos, but she was struck by how mismatched they looked-the scrawny pale young Irishman and the dark voluptuous Italian cougar sat together on the opposite end of the conference table from Gibbs, who radiated a vague hostility that Becca knew well. He hated having outsiders in on a Navy case.

"So," he said one everyone sat down, "what was so personal and sensitive that Commissioner Martin had to send you two down here instead of telling me over the video call?" A look passed between the two visitors, and Becca instantly realized that, whatever it was, it had indeed warranted special caution.

"This man isn't killing naval personnel because he's got a thing against boats," Triss finally said. "He's doing it because there's one thing you can be sure of about a dead sailor or Marine in the DC area. The main NCIS office will be investigating."

Ziva's eyes widened. "You think the connection is us? What makes you so certain?"

Triss nodded at Pellagrino, who pulled out a tightly folded piece of notebook paper and handed it to Gibbs. "This was sent to me personally between our fourth and fifth murders." Gibbs read it aloud.

"'I love the way you work. Each time I send you a new gift, it's like Christmas to me watching you try to unravel it. I should let you know me but the game is almost too much fun. Your beauty is equaled only by your brilliance and someday soon we will be together. Until my next present, Yours.'" His demeanor had shifted and his eyes looked grave. "You believe the killer sent this to you?"

"DNA from saliva on the paper matched blood we found on one of the victims. No hits in the system." Triss laid a gentle hand on Pellagrino's shoulder. "We believe the ultimate linking factor between the victims was that they were killed in the twenty-third. The goal was to involve Detective Pellagrino as much as possible."

McGee shook his head. "Stalkers normally can't help but to make themselves known-you never got a lead on this guy?"

"No. Without a personal connection to any of the victims and almost no forensic evidence...we put a protective detail on her, hoped he'd show, but after the sixth he just disappeared."

DiNozzo leaned forward. "His MO didn't change somehow after you assigned protection? A stalker sees his girl surrounded by big strong men...it should have set him off."

"Tell me about it. We thought he might slip, you know, help us out, but the last two were exactly the same. Really gave me the creeps."

Gibbs nodded, then looked at DiNozzo. "Tony, until I say otherwise you're on protective duty with Ziva." Ziva's jaw dropped.

"Why do you assume it's me?"

Triss looked from his partner to Ziva. "Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin-you're his type. What about Agent Compston?"

Gibbs glanced briefly at McGee. "She spends her time with a DCPD detective. Okay people, he doesn't know we know his game. We've got an edge-let's not waste it."

* * *

Becca woke the next morning to iced over windows, snow blowing past the panes, and wind howling so loud it sounded like children screaming. After putting her mittens on over her gloves and hat over her earmuffs, she wrapped her scarf twice around her face and headed out the door.

Once in the car she put the keys in the ignition and went through the secret ritual she told no one about. 'Sput-sput' went the engine, and she pulled the key out. One. She put it back in and turned. 'Sput-sput.' Two.

"And three's the magic number," she hummed cheerfully as she turned again.

'Sput-sput sputttrrrr sproom Sproooommm sprnk!" It had never done that before. Cautiously, as if approaching a snarling dog, she turned the key once more. There was no reaction at all. She slammed her hands against the dash and was greeted with arctic silence.

"Shit shit fuck shit!!" she roared as she tried again and laid her foot on the gas. The pedal gave under the pressure all the way to the floor with no resistance. A ding caught her hopeful attention and she looked at her console.

'Check engine. No fucking duh." She picked up the phone.

"Cody, it's me. The car's dead. What? I can't call in! We're trying to catch a murderer-I have to go to work! No, I know you're already in Ballston...just come get me!"

She called Gibbs.

"What's up?"

"Car's dead-I'm gonna be late."

"You should have let McGee go with you-he knows cars."

"Yeah, I know. So it'll be a couple of hours."

"Don't worry about it-I'm sending McGee to come get you."

"Wait, no...Gibbs!"

He hung up. She redialed, only to be greeted by his busy signal. She called McGee. Same thing. After a long time during which she contemplated the horror of her life, when she realized her toes were tingling, Becca got out of the car and headed for the warm house.

"Damn," she muttered as she pulled at the locked door. "Left the keys in the car." She headed back to the vehicle only to be confronted by another locked door, her keys a frosted panel away from her on her seat.

"The universe hates me," she muttered to herself. "I told my boyfriend there was nothing going on between me and my partner and the universe knows I'm a liar and now it's punishing me."

She curled up in the corner of her stoop, buried her double-swathed hands in her coat and waited. Just as she thought she might never feel her nose again, McGee pulled up and got out of the car. His shout coalesced into a burst of cloud in front of his face.

"What are you doing down there? Come get in the car, it's cold."

She shook her feet and walked down to meet him at the curb.

"You don't have to be here. You can go back to the office."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "What? Gibbs said you needed me to come get you."

"I've got someone coming. Gibbs hung up before I could tell him that. You wouldn't answer your phone. I'm sorry you drove out here but Cody's coming."

"Well just call him and tell him I got you-now let's go!"

"No."

McGee sighed. "Bex, I'm tired, I want to catch this damn bastard and I'm freezing out here, now come on!"

She slowly turned to him with that crazy light in her eyes and he instinctively backed up as if from a wild animal.

"You're cold?" she whispered in a deathly calm. "Oh, I'm sorry, is your precious ass that just got out of a nice warm car a little chilly? I have been out in this snow and wind for twenty minutes because I was so pissed and stressed out about fighting with you and fighting with Cody and my piece of shit lemon refusing to have a little compassion that I locked the fucking house key in the fucking car!!" She took a deep breath. "We have to wait for Cody because he has the spare key."

McGee was quiet a moment. "Barnes has a key to your house?"

"He's my boyfriend, McGee."

"You know, I drove all the way out here in a blizzard-you could show a little gratitude!"

"Who the hell asked you to? Not me! I didn't ask you for a goddamn thing!"

"God I wish you would cut this shit out! You call me at four in the morning just to talk because you're bored or something, which I was happy to do, and now you act like this! Make up your mind whether we're friends or co-workers, Bex, and then tell me so I can get back to my life!"

"What life? When was the last time you talked to your mom, Christmas? And when was the last time you went on a date? You don't even have a dog because you're not home enough to feed it!"

He was done. The reason he had no life was because of her and his inability to get her out of his head and if she pushed him any further he was going to tell her just to shut her up.

"It's cold. Come sit in the car while we wait."

"No."

"Damn it, Bex!"

She threw her hands in the air and let out a bellow. "Are you totally clueless? Do you really not get it? Barnes hates you, McGee! He's convinced you're after me and he's two steps away from kicking your ass and I'm torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to let him! No fucking way I'm letting him see me all cozy in the car with you!"

Just then Barnes pulled up behind him, and the expression on his face as he got out of the cruiser told McGee that Becca was not exaggerating.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Barnes growled. Becca stepped between him and McGee.

"I tried to tell Gibbs you were coming for me but he hung up. Cody, please don't do this-he's leaving. Come on, let's go."

Barnes took a few heaving breaths and his face softened. "Yeah, ok."

McGee knew he should let it go, but he couldn't stop himself. He called her name, and when she turned to look at him, he knew exactly why Barnes was jealous, and it wasn't really about him. Her eyes, even blazing with anger, were so focused on him, so full of her passionate frustration with him, that he knew there was no room for a thought of Barnes standing behind her. Suddenly in the middle of the wind and snow a flame of burning hope welled up in the pit of his stomach.

Barnes watched them look at each other and scoffed.

"Bex, I don't have time for this. Just get in his car and go."

She turned back to him. "No, Cody, please, you drove all the way back..."

He cut her off and handed her the spare house key. "We'll talk about this later. Right now I just need to work."

After he drove off Becca made a snowball and threw it square in McGee's face.

"Are you happy? You just couldn't help yourself, could you!? You just can't let it go! I am trying to get a goddamn life!! I want to work and have a boyfriend and a house and just be normal and you think you have some crazy divine mandate to screw with it! I'm done with you, McGee! Outside of an investigation, outside of the office, I don't want to see your face anymore!"

"Well if you don't want me here Bex then why am I here? Explain to me if you and I are so finished why it was me that drove back through the goddamn blizzard to come get you?"

"Because I called Gibbs to tell him I'd be late and before I could say no he sent you to come get me! Just like he sent you out to Amy's at Christmas and sent you to babysit me and..."

"Stop it! Shut up! You don't get to do that."

"Do what?"

"Pretend like you didn't want me there at your apartment! We had a moment Bex, a moment where you let down all your fucking walls and quit being so damn brave and you let me in, on your bathroom countertop you let me in, and you don't get to turn around and ruin it now by pretending it didn't mean anything!"

"No one asked you to stick yourself in my life, McGee! Tony doesn't do that! Ziva, Abby, God, no one but you thinks they have this right to expect answers out of me!"

"You almost died on the floor of my car!"

The last word rang out in the cold air like a bullet.

"You almost died on the floor of my car, and I shaved your head, and I held you and I told you it would all be alright! I know you, Bex, I see right through you. You have so many emotions and passions and rages that almost boil over every day and you're terrified that if you let even an inch of your guard down that it'll all spin out of control. You're afraid to death of turning into your mother, unable to keep two socks together in a drawer. Well you know what? Your need to be in control is out of control!"

They were clinging to the opposite sides of his car now like two soldiers separated by a trench, their breath mingling in a condensed cloud between them that obscured each other's features.

"Do you know what I saw the first time I saw you? You were beautiful, yeah, whatever, but I caught your eye from across the room and I saw the fire in it, the uncompromising need to hate or love or nothing in between and it shook me. You lock that spirit up because it scares the shit out of you and I'm so goddamn sick of watching you suppress it!"

"Well if you're so sick then why don't you just stop! Stop watching me, stop trying to get to me! Stop making me trust you and just let me go!"

"I can't stop! I can't let you go-I don't know how!"

She had no answer for that. The cloud of all those words of breath cleared and they looked into each other's eyes. Finally McGee shook his head.

"Just get in the car," he whispered.

"I'd rather freeze."

"They're waiting on us."

"I'll call a cab."

"Bex, please. I need to work; I'm going crazy and I need to work and I can't work without you there so please just get in the damn car."

She didn't answer, just slid into the car and slammed the door. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye at her as he turned the keys.

"Thank you."

"Don't talk to me. Don't you dare say one word to me."

"Bex..."

"Go to hell McGee."


	18. Chapter 18

**Just a few author's notes if anyone cares-1.) The fight scene was inspired by the three biological responses to adrenaline. When you want someone that badly and you think you can't have them, the tension releases in one of the two other ways. Since flight isn't really an option for Becca or McGee, there was only one choice left. 2.) If you've already pictured him ignore this, but if you need a visual, then I say that if this was a real NCIS plot, Shemar Moore would be guest staring as Barnes.**

**P.S. After these next two chapters, those of you who are reading as I post will either love me or want to kill me.**

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

18

Two hours later Abby nearly broke her nose three times trying to get to Gibb's office. She skidded Risky Business style past his door, only her hand clutching the frame stopping her from toppling over. She heaved for breath as she looked at Gibbs, who pressed his lips together to contain his smile.

"Abby."

"I...foun...found som...something impor.."

"Calm down, take a breath and tell me what was such a big deal that you had to come get me instead of call me."

She held up an evidence bag. Inside was a small paper stained and worn with dried blood and crease marks.

"What I thought was a piece of a laundry list in Petty Officer Ortega's coat pocket was a note from the killer."

"What? There's no writing on it."

"Nothing visible, but under the microscope I saw traces of a blue pigment. I ran it through the machine and a pattern emerged."

"Writing."

"Yeah. I made you a copy."

Gibbs looked at the stark black letters and his eyes widened as he read.

"'She is the lost one and on her head is the symbol of her exile and her divinity. I am anointed to rescue her.' What the hell is this?"

"Not a clue, but I found something else interesting. When I ran particles of the actual substance that made the blue marks through the mass spec., it was woad."

"Woad?"

"Yeah, like what old Celts used to make tattoos with."

Gibbs raised his brows at her and she blushed.

"History of the Art of Tatoos. It's a class at the Smithsonian."

"So what does this mean Abby?"

"I don't know Gibbs. I find evidence-you guys interpret. Becca's the criminal psychologist."

"Abby, what pocket did you find this in?"

"Which one do you think?"

Gibbs leaned on his desk. "He could be talking about Ortega's head, Beechman's head...'

"...Or Ziva's head," Abby finished.

"Lets not jump to conclusions. Tell Ducky to look really close at Ortega's head and see if there's anything off."

"I'm glad you said something," Mallard said to Gibbs as he entered the morgue. "I would never have caught it otherwise. Look."

Gibbs leaned over to see where Mallard had parted Ortega's hair. Between the dark locks lay a small patch of naked skin with an odd mark cut into it-it reminded Gibbs of a thumbnail or a very new crescent moon.

"What made that?"

"Not a knife or carving tool-there are no hatch marks on the edges of the skin. The center of the mark is deeper than the edges; it's almost as if the skin was scooped out with a similar shaped instrument.'

"What sort of tool would leave a mark like that?"

"I have no idea."

Gibbs flipped open his phone. "McGee, I want you to do a multiple keyword search with these words-woad, crescent, the left side."

After a few moments Gibbs heard a grunt of disbelief on the other end of the line.

"What is it?"

"It's weird; the computer keeps pulling up some sort of pagan or Wiccan sites-temple fire schedules, moon calendars-wait, Boss, why did you include 'crescent' in the search?"

"Gabriella Ortega's got a crescent shaped mark carved into the left side of her scalp."

"A lot of these websites have a crescent moon as a sort of symbol in their logos."

"What about the woad and the left side?"

"Uh...it just says that woad was used to make tattoos in ancient England...ok, here we go. 'The right side of the body is traditionally associated with the divine masculine principle and the left side with the divine feminine. The Mona Lisa...blah blah blah...Boss, is it possible we're looking for a woman?"

"You think a woman could have overpowered Midshipman Jacobs like that? Besides, the DNA on the note sent to Pellagrino is male."

"Yeah, well then this guy is associating himself with a lot of feminist and goddess stuff."

"Well then what we have is a better handle on who he is-maybe that'll help us find him." Gibbs hung up the phone.

"Ducky, look for that mark on the other two victims, and I want you to list as many similarities and differences between the three of them as you can find-even obvious things like sex and race. The smallest things have meaning for this bastard."

Just as he began to leave the morgue, Gibbs almost ran into a stumbling DiNozzo, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Boss..."

"What? I'm not in the mood, DiNozzo, spit it out!"

"DCPD found another body. By the old shipyard. It's another one of ours."

* * *

The snow had calmed down a little, but the wind still slung their pants around their legs like cracking whips. Gibbs beckoned them over to a sheltered spot.

"Robert Turner, Marine-African American, well-built, twenty-four. Moved from where he was killed and stripped naked save for one white regulation-issue sock on his left foot."

Dinozzo let out a low whistle. "And he's the same race, sex, build, age range and MO of the first victim Geoffrey Jacobs."

Ziva pursed her lips. "Do we think we are seeing a pattern?"

"I don't want to know," Becca whispered. "In order to know for sure, we'd have to find a white middle-aged woman with all her clothes on and a Hispanic girl with her shirt open. I'd rather not."

McGee rolled his eyes. "I think we can go ahead and call it a pattern with out the morbid dramatics."

"I wasn't talking to you, was I?" Becca hissed. DiNozzo and Ziva eyed each other.

"Play nice kids," Gibbs said. "Check his scalp about three inches above his left ear. Any weird markings?"

"No, there won't be," said Mallard as he came up behind them. "Jacobs had no such mark, and neither did Beechman. Only Ortega."

Gibbs nodded. "On her head is the symbol of her exile and her divinity."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. "Where did you get that from?"

"The note the killer left in Ortega's pocket," Gibbs explained as he pulled it out and handed it to her. "Obviously he was referring to the crescent he carved in her scalp."

"It's also from the Torah, Gibbs," she said.

"The Torah?"

"And the Bible. The mark God gave to Cain after he slew Abel. It both exiled him and announced to others that he was protected, special to Yahweh."

"What was the mark?"

She shrugged. "No one knows for sure. Neither text describes it."

Ziva passed the note to Becca, who shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. It says that he is anointed to rescue her, but aside from the way her clothes were arranged and the dig in her head, Ortega was killed exactly the same as Beechman and Jacobs. If she were special..."

"It totally makes sense!" McGee cut her off sharply. "The note in Ortega's pocket says that a woman will have a symbol on her head, and Ortega is a woman with a symbol cut into her head!"

Becca mouth tightened and she swallowed hard, then bucked her coat collar up against the wind and went back to the body with her camera. DiNozzo looked at McGee.

"I knew you guys hadn't been getting along, but she is really pissed at you!" Gibbs popped him on the back of the head.

"Focus, will you! Ducky, did you come up with anything else like we talked about?"

"Well, there was one man and two women, so I focused on the women. Aside from the differences in their age and race, the most significant thing I found was that Commander Beechman had given birth while Petty Officer Ortega had not."

"Come on," McGee scoffed. "How would the killer know that? Beechman's daughter wasn't with her the night of the murder-she was alone."

Gibbs took McGee's arm. "You've got to go back through those credit statements one more time. The only way this guy could know Beechman was a mother before he attacked her was if he had been watching her. He's got access to all these people somehow. Maybe adding Turner into the mix will make something pop up."

Ziva held up her hand. "Wait, we are assuming now that the killer is making a distinction between a mother and a woman who has never given birth? How would that even be relevant?"

"Like I said to Ducky," Gibbs said, "the smallest details mean big things to this killer. He put that mark on Ortega in a place where he could never have been sure we would find it even with his note. It wasn't there for us-it was there for him. Find what you can here, then meet back at the office."

McGee took out his camera. "I'm gonna go see if Becca needs help with the body," he muttered. Ziva leaned into DiNozzo after their partner walked off.

"Did they have a fight?"

"Who knows with those two? One minute they're Butch and Sundance and the next they're not speaking. By the way, did I leave my toothbrush at your place last night?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Dripping and scummy on my countertop, yes. Why?"

"I'm trying to remember what I should pack and what's already over there."

"You do realize that I will hear anything before you do, wake up before you do, pull my gun out before you do, right?"

"That may be the case, desert fox warrior princess, but I don't want to think about where my ass will end up if Gibbs stops by at two in the morning and I'm not there."

Ziva shrugged and grimaced at him. "It's not like I am not used to you firing guns in my apartment."

DiNozzo winced. "Ouch. You can make that up to me by picking up a quart of milk on the way home tonight."

Ziva looked to where McGee and Becca were clearly having another quarrel over the body of a departed Marine and shuddered. "Do you really think he's after me?"

DiNozzo caught the anxiety in her voice and tried to speak as tenderly as he could. "I wish I could tell you he wasn't, but between Pellagrino, Beechman and Ortega, this guy's got it bad for brunettes."

She nodded. "I will get your milk."

* * *

"I don't understand why you have to be so stubborn!" McGee took turns snapping photographs of Turner's condition and having a one-sided argument with a very quiet Becca.

"I mean, we fought and some things got said, but that doesn't mean you have to freeze me out like this! You're acting like a child!"

Becca ignored him and gently turned Turner's head to get a clean shot of the puncture wound. Funny, she thought. Ortega's neck was leaned to the right so the wound was clearly displayed, but Turner's was arranged so the wound was hidden. She added it to her mental catalog of the ways this killer manifested his strange obsession. It became more apparent as this case went on that he had specific variations on his signature for male and female victims, and she made a second mental note to check the photos of Jacobs' crime scene to see which way his head had been oriented.

"You're not even listening to me," McGee grumbled. "You never listen to me. Sometimes I feel like I talk and talk and you just shove it in a box in the back of your crazy head somewhere."

Then stop talking, she thought, but she was still too angry at him. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of rising to his bait and breaking her silence.

"You know," he said, and she knew instantly by the tone of his voice that his legitimate complaints were done and now he was just trying to get a reaction out of her, "you and Barnes deserve each other. You've both got tempers, you're both irrational, you both make up these nutso scenarios in your head where everyone's out to get you or take things from you or control you. You two can just go off and be insane and paranoid together."

Becca bit the inside of her cheek until it bled to keep from slapping him. He had no clue how it had all happened, how sensitive Barnes was about her relationship with another man. And she was tired-both of them may have each fought once, but she had fought twice. She stared at Turner's sock, trying to force herself to check it for signs or symbols but unable to think of anything besides how much she wanted to fly away and pretend neither of them existed.

"I'm done. Are you going to finish up so we can analyze these or are you just going to sit there staring at a stupid sock like an idiot?"

In answer she shoved her camera in his chest and walked back to the car.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

19

Back at the office, an eerie calm settled over the desk quad-nothing but the sound of typing and the occasional sip of water disturbed the peace. Finally Becca thumped her head on her desk with a groan. DiNozzo jumped.

"Has anyone found anything yet?" her muffled voice called out from the wood. McGee cleared his throat.

"I can't find any place in common between these four victims. Aside from being in the Navy they all led completely different lives."

Becca jumped up from her chair. "It's five o'clock and the last time we ate was at eleven. I'm going on a run to Pan Chen's-everybody want their usual?"

"Get me veggies instead of fried rice this time," Ziva said. Becca nodded and grabbed her coat.

McGee shook his head and grinned as he watched her back head towards the elevator. Even now, when they were fighting, her absolute inability to sit still amused him. If she had experienced a normal childhood, she would probably be addicted to Ritalin by now.

He looked at the window and frowned. Maybe he should have forced her to let him go with her-Pan Chen's wasn't a long walk but it was starting to get cold outside. He wouldn't want to be the guard having Yard gate duty tonight.

It smacked him like a wet fish in the face.

"Holy shit the Yard!" he yelled, and began typing furiously as an astonished DiNozzo and Ziva jumped up to gather around his screen.

"I got so caught up in their credit statements I forgot to check where they had used their Navy cards-they're hooked into their personal accounts but the statements don't record exactly where the money was spent, just that it was in the Yard!"

"Look!" he said as he pulled up the naval issued convenience cards for Jacobs, Beechman, Ortega and Turner. "They all bought food at the same vending carts, cigarettes, gas at the pit stop on the north end-different times and dates but they were in the same places all over the Yard."

Suddenly a violent chill numbed his fingers and his heart skipped a beat. McGee grabbed his gun, jumped up so quickly he knocked into DiNozzo and he ran to the elevator without even taking his coat.

"Where are you going?" DiNozzo called after him.

"Becca's out there by herself, it's getting dark, and he's here in Navy Yard!"

McGee stomped his foot in the elevator and wiggled his fingers impatiently.

"Come on, come on..." He had a sixth sense about Becca, had always had one since he'd known her. It was why he had knocked concernedly on her bathroom door even though she'd only been in there for a few minutes and why he'd woken at four yesterday morning just before she'd called, and right now it was screaming at him that he had to catch up with her.

He saw her bright red head glowing a ways in front of him and even thought his heart was racing he mentally chastised her for not wearing a hat.

"Becca!"

He knew she heard him; he saw her walk faster.

"Becca, come on! You have to listen to me!" He gave up and ran towards her, and she picked up her pace until she was slightly jogging.

"Leave me the hell alone, McGee!" she called as she turned the corner. He was almost on her heels now and in another minute would round the corner and catch a hold of her. He turned and reached out.

She was gone.

"Becca?"

No answer. His heart pounded so loudly now he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. Not since the car crash had he felt so afraid.

"Bex, I'm not trying to get you to talk to me. We think the killer is here in Navy Yard. Baby, please, if you're just hiding to avoid me I need you to come out."

Icy silence. McGee took a deep breath to steady his shaking fingers and drew his gun. Slowly, more frightened then he had ever been in his life, he began parting the branches of the tall bushes next to the sidewalk behind him. Just then he heard a noise a few feet off in the opposite direction, like a snapping twig or a footfall. He whirled to face it, his gun outstretched and his finger on the trigger. Nothing.

Behind where he had just turned from he heard a loud rustle of leaves and sticks breaking. Thank God. He turned back-he was going to make sure she was unhurt and then he would kill her for scaring him.

Suddenly he heard a loud thump right beside his ear and an intense pain shot through his head. He glanced at the bushes and just had time to look into Becca's wide, terrified eyes behind the leaves before everything went dark.

* * *

DiNozzo drummed his fingers on his mouse pad to drown out the sound of his growling stomach.

"They've been gone a long time," he said to himself. Ziva nodded and picked up her phone. DiNozzo did the same.

"McGee's not answering," she said. He shook his head.

"Neither is Becca. What do you wanna bet they made up and are making out somewhere? Poor Barnes."

"Any other time I would say you were right, but now that we know the killer's in the Yard, McGee would have brought Becca right back here."

Ziva's computer dinged loudly, and DiNozzo jumped again.

"What is that thing's problem?"

"It's telling me my search engine is finished. I had it pull up everything it could find on woad, crescent moons, the left side, goddesses, Wicca and Cain's mark."

"And you got so many hits you had to set a timer on the search?"

Ziva wasn't smiling anymore.

"Tony. We are so blind."

"What?"

"When did the murders in New York stop?"

"Five months ago. Why?"

"What changed here at NCIS five months ago?"

DiNozzo's nonchalant face dropped into a hard stare. "You think that he followed..."

She spun her computer screen around. "Look."

A portrait of a goddess filled the monitor. Ziva waited for DiNozzo to get an eyeful of it before she clicked on another, and another, and another. Images flew by of Circe, Ceridwen, Ceres, Persephone, Mary Magdalene, Isolde. All of them had red hair. The final image was of a tall, slender woman with wide dark green eyes and vivid red curls flowing down to her waist.

"Who is that?" DiNozzo asked shakily.

"Morganne," Ziva whispered. "Goddess of the sea and sailors. And Mary Magdalene the outcast is always portrayed with red hair."

DiNozzo's heart was in his throat. "'On her head is the symbol of her exile and her divinity.'"

As they sat there gazing horrified at each other, too shocked to moved, Gibbs came storming out of the office.

"Has anyone found anything yet? What? Why do you both look like you've seen a ghost?"

DiNozzo tore his eyes away from Ziva. "McGee discovered that the killer has access to the Yard. That's where he's following his victims."

Gibbs' jaw tightened. "You mean he's here? Where's McGee?"

"Becca went out to get food. When McGee realized what he did, he went after her. Neither one is answering their phones."

DiNozzo had worked with Gibbs long enough to know that the man rarely expressed a weak emotion, and to know that the slight widening of the eyes and tensing of the lips he saw on his boss' face just now meant fear.

"Tony," Gibbs whispered. "Where are Becca and McGee?"

DiNozzo couldn't speak. His eyes pleaded with Ziva.

"Gibbs," she said. "You asked if we had found anything."

He turned to look at her, and this time even his panic was palpable.

"I found the mark of Cain. It has no basis in scripture, but European tradition says that God marked Cain by making him the first redhead."

* * *

McGee awoke to a searing ache behind his right ear and a duller, more irritating one in his wrists and ankles. He was in the dark, and slowly his eyes adjusted. He was tied to a metal chair; his hands were lashed to the rails behind his back and his bound feet rested on cement. A slight whimper caught his attention and he fought the exploding pain throbbing across his skull to look towards it.

A low platform made of rough wooden boards stood to his right, and on the platform was a large, ornate wooden chair. In the chair, wrists strapped to the armrests and a gag in her mouth, sat Becca. He locked eyes with her and relief flooded through him. She was alive. Nothing else mattered.

He heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn to look. Nothing save the hand of God would make him break contact with her. He didn't know where they were or what was going to happen, but as long as he could look in her eyes and know that she was still safe he could make it through anything.

A soft wheezing by his good ear sent a wave of terrified nausea through him, and he felt something long and cold and metal run gently across the left side of his neck.

"You spoke disrespectfully to my goddess," a male voice whispered. "You will not have a second opportunity to do so."

**Mua ha ha HAA!!!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Guess what? My stupid self finally figured out how to use to horizontal ruler bar in the doc editing window!! Maybe now the scene transitions won't be so jarring-gonna go back and fix the previous chapters. Cannot BELIEVE how long that took me. ):[**

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

20

McGee felt his captor breathing in his ear, smelt the metallic zing of what he felt certain was the infamous puncturing murder weapon under his nose. He mentally forced himself to make it all fade, to look into Becca's eyes and not think of anything else. They were so feminine, shiny and expressive and she had stopped wearing that stupid black mascara he hated so the beautiful burgundy of her natural lashes showed. Her irises were such an incredible color; he had used to think they were olive-hazel but they were truly almost hunter without any brown in them at all. Right now they were full of liquid fear, fear for him. Goddamn he loved her.

Suddenly his vision of her was blocked, and he looked up to see their captor's face bearing down at him. The man knelt between McGee's knees, and he took the opportunity to commit it to memory.

He was a smaller man, his face long and narrow with very high cheekbones and a pointed chin. Sallow pale skin devoid of healthy color hung slack under his thin mouth and bleary grey eyes, and his thin aquiline nose flared at McGee like a rabid animal's. When he spoke he smiled, showing disturbingly white, even teeth. Somehow the incongruous feature made him singularly disgusting, and in that instant McGee knew that somewhere, he had seen this man before.

"You're almost perfect," he breathed. "If you were a woman I could kill you right now without breaking the spell. But she wouldn't understand," he said as he gestured back to Becca. "She's not quite ready to face the truth of who she is."

"Who is she?" McGee managed to crack out. The killer laughed.

"You think I would trust you with that knowledge? You, who treated her like she was your dog to kick around? I was anointed to rescue her from men just like you. Men who believe the lies and their own arrogance, and have no notion of the truth."

What was he talking about? This entire situation was completely...wait, could this lunatic be referring to earlier this morning, when Becca had ignored him while he had tried to get her to talk? He had said some disrespectful things, he admitted, but how could this bastard have...suddenly McGee recognized the person kneeling before him.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop on people Connor," he smirked. "It's very rude."

In answer Connor Hanover stood up and punched him in the mouth. Between the physical pain in his head and the whirling gears of his brain, it barely registered. McGee licked his busted lip and tasted the bright salty blood. Hanover wiped his bloody fist on McGee's shirt and walked up to Becca, whose eyes burned so brightly that McGee knew her bound hands and feet were the only reason Hanover was still in one piece.

Hanover stroked the side of her face, and McGee's wrists started to bleed from his uncontrollable urge to bust them free. He would tear this man's arms off like a cat playing with a dead spider.

"I'm sorry," Hanover whispered to Becca. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't the plan. I wish he hadn't followed you. I wish we could have been alone-there are so many things I need to tell you. But he'll pay, my lady. I promise you he'll pay for they way he treated you." He pulled a silver flask out from his pocket and removed Becca's gag to make her drink. She sipped at the bottle eagerly, and when he pulled it back she spit the liquid in his face. He slapped her and replaced the cloth in her mouth.

"You're smarter than that," he hissed, and he walked towards a metal door to the left of them. McGee turned and watched carefully-in the split moment Hanover had the door open, he could see the spreading branches of an oak tree outlined in the moonlight and smell the pine needles, and under their pungency a more familiar odor-the scent of the river. Wherever Hanover had taken them, it wasn't very far.

He slammed the door and they were alone. McGee looked back at Becca, whose eyes drifted from his blooded lip up to his eyes, her own questioning.

"Connor Hanover," McGee said. "He's a gofer for the crime tech team. He's probably been working at every one of his murder scenes." He tried to smile for her, but a sharp pain suddenly shot through his lip. "I think we're on the Virginian side of the Potomac -the trees outside that door look and smell really familiar."

She nodded and closed her eyes, and he had a moment of panic.

"Bex, don't do that. We can get through this, but I need you to look at me. I can't have your voice right now, sweetheart-all I've got is your eyes."

They snapped open and refocused on his, and he let out the tense breath he'd been holding. "You're not gonna give up on me, are you?" She shook her head vigorously.

"Okay. Just stay with me."

* * *

"Ok think," Gibbs said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Abby and DiNozzo were scared enough for the four of them. "You said Becca went for food. Where exactly was she going?"

"Pan Chen's."

"Everybody get your guns. Abby, you got your kit? You're with me. Let's walk to Pan Chen's."

They followed the sidewalk out the front door and down around the corner, where Abby grabbed Gibbs' arm frantically.

"Look," she whispered as she pointed to a fresh bloodstain on the sidewalk. DiNozzo gestured towards a torn hole in the long line of manicured bushes beside them.

"Struggle. It'll be McGee's blood. He wants Becca-he wouldn't hurt her."

Ziva swallowed hard. "He might have, if she resisted doing what he wanted." Gibbs shook his head.

"Becca knows how these creeps think; she knows not to antagonize a stalker. I don't think she would have done anything to make him angry with McGee on the line."

Abby bent down and swabbed at the blood. "It's not a lot," she whispered. "He could still be alive."

Gibbs sighed. "Now comes the hard part," he said as he took out his phone. "Hey Duck, it's me. You need to put all four victims on the slabs. Becca and McGee are missing. We think the killer took them."

They ran back to the office and Gibbs blew around the quad reigniting the computers.

"Abby, get that blood down to the lab-maybe some of it will match the DNA from Pellagrino's letter. Ziva, get Pellagrino and Triss on the phone, we need to talk. Tony, go through the entire record of people who are employed inside Navy Yard and see if any of them came from New York around the same time as Becca. We're looking for a single white male between twenty-five and fifty." Gibbs dashed around the corner and down the stairs to the morgue.

Mallard sat in a chair in the corner clutching the edge of the hard plastic seat, sucking in deep breaths. Gibbs laid a hand on his shoulder, and the ME flinched.

"Not just now, Jethro. I'm trying to catch up to myself. I must compartmentalize if I'm to be any use at all."

"We'll get her back, Duck. I promise."

Mallard closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Yes. Yes we will. Alright, I'm ready. What are we looking for?"

"Anything that might tell us more about who this guy is-if we can figure him out, maybe we can find where he might go."

"The DNA was of a Caucasian male. We know he's familiar with the water, he feels deeply involved with goddess worship philosophy..."

"Nature. He'd go back to nature. Somewhere undeveloped by the water."

"Yes, but Jethro, that encompasses anything in a fifty mile arc south of Washington."

"He'd need privacy-away from the highways...isolated...this isn't getting us anywhere. What about the bodies?"

Mallard shook his finger at Gibbs. "I incorporated what you said about the pagan connection, and I think I understand why Ortega was marked as special. In the pagan religion, in-between places and things are considered sacred-where two distinct entities collide, as it were. Ortega's age and skin color were a medium between Jacobs and Beechman, and with Turner the pattern started over again."

Gibbs nodded. "Ortega was found with her clothing halfway removed. It makes sense." He drew out his phone and called Ziva.

"Ziva, you got Pellagrino and Triss? Yeah, patch 'em through. Triss, it's Gibbs. I need to know the pattern of the race, age and sex of all six of your victims. Okay, that third victim, Sarah Kraftt, she was half black and half white? Did you find anything on her from the killer? Got it."

He left a bewildered Ducky and ran up the stairs.

"Ziva, find everything you can about oak trees in this area. Where they're concentrated, where people go to see them-focus on areas close to the water."

DiNozzo wrinkled his nose. "Why oak trees?" Ziva made a face at him.

"In the religious system this man has hijacked, oak trees are sacred."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, and the third New York victim had a paper in her pocket with an oak leaf drawn over a crescent moon."

Suddenly DiNozzo threw his hands in the air and let loose a wild yelp.

"I got him! Connor Hanover, thirty four, moved to DC five months ago from New York where he lived in the twenty-third Bronx precinct! He's...oh my God. He's one of ours."

"Yeah we knew that."

"No, I don't mean he's in the Navy. He's part of the crime scene technical team. Gibbs, he's NCIS."

Gibbs pointed at him. "That's it. Pellagrino's note said he enjoyed watching her work. He processed the crime scenes in New York and he's been watching Becca here in DC."

"McGee remembers faces," DiNozzo said. "He's probably recognized him."

"If he's still alive," Ziva whispered. "Gibbs, the southern bend of the Potomac is known for its oak stands-some of the oldest trees on the seaboard."

They pulled out a map. There in front of them stretched the southern Potomac, its wide bend swinging down and back up in a perfect arcing crescent.

"They're there somewhere guys. We've just got to find spot."

* * *

McGee woke again-the pain in his head had dulled somewhat, and his lip had a crust over it that stretched painfully when he opened his mouth. With no windows, he couldn't tell how long he'd been out. He glanced at Becca. She was watching him, and when their eyes met he could see how afraid she'd been. She motioned her head towards her arm, then at his. McGee twisted as best he could until he could see his lower arm between the metal bars of the chair back. There on the inside were track marks. He'd been drugged. He looked wildly at Becca.

"Did he hurt you?" She shook her head, then shrugged. McGee looked around, but there was no sign of Hanover. Had he gone back to DC to keep working? Was he killing someone right now? McGee prayed for some sign of how long they had been here or how long he'd been unconscious. It could have been hours or days.

Think, he thought to himself. Look at your surroundings. Everything could be a clue. He closed his eyes and listened. There were birds chirping outside-it was either early morning or dusk. He knew they were in an undeveloped forested area by a river, he thought the Potomac, but in reality they could be anywhere in Virginia. He sighed.

"Becca, I can't see behind me. If there's anything back there, anything that might give us a clue, you need to tell me."

Her eyes widened and she nodded her head forcefully. McGee willed the aching muscles of his legs to pick up the chair and he hopped it in a circle until he faced the opposite direction. He grimaced at the loud clang of the metal against the concrete floor and held his breath for a moment, waiting for Hanover to come in, but the door did not open. McGee said a quick prayer of thanks-wherever Hanover might be, he and Becca were alone.

McGee said another prayer when he looked to where Becca's eyes had pointed. A collection of natural brick-a-brack hung suspended on twine from the metal-beamed ceiling. On the back wall behind them, he could just barely make out the faded symbol of the Virginia Park Service. Great. A National Forest. Like there weren't a million of those. Still, it was a clue. He looked at the items dangling before him.

A ball of mistletoe. Common enough. A garland of loblolly pinecones. No help; those were everywhere. A handmade dream catcher with a bunch of feathers hanging from the hole-odd, for a man who professed a pagan idealism. A fish skeleton, what species he couldn't make out. A rabbit skin-wait. His eyes drifted back to the dream catcher. Those feathers weren't just any ordinary feathers. They were from a bald eagle. In spite of his lip he couldn't stop a huge grin from spreading over his face.

"Bex, make some sort of noise-once for yes and twice for no. Do you think you can chew through the cloth in your mouth?"

Behind him came two wild grunts. He shook his head.

"Wrong answer sweetheart. Bex we've got to get out of here-I know where we are. I can't reach my hands but if you can get that gag out of your mouth you can reach your restraints with your teeth. You've got to try."

The next few moments seemed to stretch on into eternity. He began to get frantic, imagining what Hanover might do to Becca if he came back and caught her. Just as McGee began to realize that his instructions might have gotten her killed, he heard a sputtering cough explode behind him.

"Bex?"

"Yeah." Her voice was weak and broken but it was hers. He felt two hot tears slide down his face.

"Ok baby, look at the knots that are holding your hands. Do you think you can get them untied with your teeth?"

"No, but I didn't think I could chew through that coated canvas either."

"That's my girl."

For a moment there was no sound but her noises of frustration and pain, until at last he heard a loud thump.

"I got it! Oh my god! I'm coming McGee, I've just got to get this other hand and my feet..."

He heard the pounding of feet running towards him, and suddenly her beautiful fingers were on the chafed, tender skin of his wrists, and then his arms were his again. He bit his cheek back at the excruciating sensation of the blood rushing into his muscles.

McGee looked up and she was in front of him, safe and free and on fire with adrenaline and fury and so alive he wanted to kiss her hard until all his fear and rage got lost in her mouth. Instead he untied his ankles and she helped him to shakily stand up.

"How are we going to get out of here?" he muttered as he took her hand.

"I don't think he locked the door. He thinks I trust him." McGee gazed aghast at her, and she looked away from him.

"He talked to me for hours, and I...let's just get out of here."

They pulled the heavy metal door open and a blaze of sunlight blinded them. When they could finally see again, they saw an old dark blue pick-up and Hanover climbed out of it, a bowie knife in his hand and murderous wrath in his eyes. McGee squeezed Becca's hand

"Run Bex."

She didn't have to be told twice.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS**

21

The blood thundered in her ears and suddenly she was four years old again and at her grandmother's country house in Surrey, running from her cousin Liam as he chased her with a water balloon. She dove in and out of the trees, flurries of dead leaves and dirty snow flying up at her feet and she sucked in the cold air greedily. Her lungs felt ready to explode, and she stopped to hide behind a tree and suppressed a giggle.

Becca shook her head fiercely-she was not four, she was twenty five and her and McGee were running for their lives from a madman and she was by herself, no McGee, even being with a serial killer might be better than being alone in the woods without a clue where she was. She couldn't catch her breath and she was more scared now then she had been tied to that hideous chair. She wanted McGee.

A hand pulled her down to the ground and just before she screamed familiar fingers clamped themselves over her mouth. She breathed in the scent of his skin and instantly relaxed.

"Stay down and put this over your head," McGee whispered in her ear as he tore off the bottom half of a pants leg and tied it under her chin. "You can see your hair from a mile away."

"Bet you don't like it so much now huh?" He pinched her arm.

"How can you possibly joke at a time like this? Come one, we've got to get to someplace defensible. Stay down."

He stood up and looked around then crouched back down to join her.

"There's a large rock over to our west-follow me and try to be quiet."

They wove through the trees until Becca felt McGee press her back against wet cold stone.

"Shit," he hissed as he smacked the rock. "That bastard took my gun."

Becca rubbed her arms. "Where are we?"

"Caledon. Virgina side of the bottom swoop of the Potomac."

"How do you know that?

"Oak trees. Loblolly pine cones. Virginia Park Services emblem on the back wall. Bald eagle feathers. We've got the advantage now-he's only been here five months and I've been coming to this forest every summer since I was six. I can smell the water north of us. If we can just stay clear of him for a few days we can follow the river up to Quantico."

"He's been with NCIS for five months?"

"Yeah. Contrary to popular belief, I did notice other things at the end of September besides you. Okay Bex, what I need you to do is keep your eyes north. I don't know how far we are from the water so watch out for things that'll protect our back-rocks like this one, big trees, hollows. We're gonna sneak from spot to spot until we hit the bank. Right now we're heading for that oak tree."

He took her hand and they rushed forward. The bark of the trees scratched her hands and she gulped in swallows of air. McGee shook her hand.

"You ready? That rock straight ahead." She threw an arm over his chest.

"McGee, what are we going to do? Hanover's out there looking for us, and it's gonna get dark, and cold, and neither one of us has our piece." He turned to her and took her head between his hands.

"I don't know, Bex! God I just..." It suddenly hit him, how close he had come to losing her, how if he hadn't realized Hanover was in Navy Yard, how if he hadn't run after her...he pulled her to him and pressed her chest against his to feel her heart beating.

"You're alive and I'm gonna keep you that way," he whispered as he kissed her hair. "I'm gonna keep you that way."

"I can take care of myself you know," she mumbled against his neck.

"Yeah, and if we were in the city I would totally trust you, but we're hiding in the woods and you'll do what I tell you to do now we're going to that next rock, okay?"

"If we're running you have to let me go."

He'd carry her before he let her go.

"Yeah, ok. Come on."

On the top of the ridge above them, Hanover watched the two tiny figures pinballing between sheltered spots-his eyes drifted up to the river's edge, and measured the distance between the two. He'd let them get there. Once they hit the river he could find them anytime he wanted.

* * *

"There's two types of land along this area," Gibbs said as he traced his finger across the map. "Private land and national forest. We can try to track everyone who comes into the national forest." DiNozzo nodded as he slipped his gun into its holster.

"We're looking for a dark blue '98 Ford F-150, 67U-5GT3."

Ziva grabbed DiNozzo's arm. "What if he's on private land?" Her partner had a look on his face she hadn't seen in a long time, the hard blank look he wore when he turned from clownish to deadly dangerous.

"He better not be. If he makes this difficult for me he's not gonna make it from NCIS custody to prison in one piece."

"Tony..."

"Ziva, I won't go through this again!"

"Go through what?"

"I tease him and make fun of him and bully him, I know that, but you and McGee are my best friends and Becca's important to me too. I will not go through Somalia again, Ziva. I won't."

"What will you do? What will you do that Gibbs cannot?"

"I'm gonna find the fucking bastard and kill him." He kicked the trashcan and a load of crumpled paper went flying. "I should have gone with him! He knew Hanover was here, he ran after Becca and I should have gone with him! I let him go after a serial killer by himself, Ziva! No way in hell that skinny piece of shit could have taken down the two of us."

Ziva took his hands and pinned his arms to his side before he started tearing up the furniture. "We'll find them, Tony. McGee has spent a lot of time in the woods and I know Becca is young but she's a cop-we will find them."

"No we won't," he whispered. "We'll find a body because McGee'll die before he lets him get within ten feet of her."

Gibbs walked back into the quad and grabbed his coat. "Up on the roof."

"What?"

"I requisitioned a squad of choppers-there's no way to find him electronically. We're doing a visual sweep search."

In a few minutes they reached the southern bend of the river and the pilot took the chopper down low.

"Start on the north end!" Gibbs shouted over the roar of the blades. "Virginia's got denser woods than the Maryland side!"

They swept over Purse and Wildwater, and just as they hit the edge of Caledon Ziva pointed to a dark grey square.

"I thought all the service stations inside the national forests were supposed to have colored roofs!"

"They are!" Gibbs answered, then leaned in to the pilot. "Take us lower!"

He hovered as close as he dared until the blades almost touched the soaring tops of the pines. Just visible next to the obviously abandoned station sat a navy blue pick-up. Gibbs signaled to the pilot to find a landing spot.

As soon as they hit ground the pilot took off again, and the three agents headed into the trees.

* * *

"McGee," Becca whispered as she looked up at the sun, "it's a ways past noon and it's the end of February. We don't have a lot of time left before it gets dark." He laid his fingers over her lips.

"Shhh. Listen. Running water. And the ground's starting to slope downward." He yanked her along for a few more yards and suddenly they popped out of a dense stand of maple and the wide brown expanse of the river stretched out before them. He sighed.

"Okay. Okay."

They jogged in silence for a while until Becca stopped to catch her breath.

"I thought I was in such great shape," she panted. "When we get home I am so adding variable incline training to the treadmill routine."

"The ground here is really soft and springy-it's like running on a balance ball. It's a skill you have to learn. Before he died my dad used to take me camping out here with just a tent and some fishing poles. He'd blindfold me and take me out two, three hours walk from our site and then tell me it was up to me to find the way back."

"How old were you?" McGee shrugged.

"Eight. Nine."

She swallowed hard. "McGee, just because he hasn't been here that long doesn't mean Hanover doesn't know these woods. He wouldn't have taken us here if he wasn't comfortable."

"I know."

She hadn't expected that. "Yeah, well, isn't following the river the obvious thing to do?" He smiled sadly at her.

"It's our only chance of getting back to a populated area."

"I know, I just...he knows we're down here. He'll find us."

"I know."

"What do we do?" He looked at her and she had never seen his eyes so resolute-it reassured her and terrified her.

"I'll protect you," he whispered.

"Who's gonna protect you?"

He drew her into his arms and laid his forehead on hers. "Don't worry about me."

Their breaths mingled in a hazy warmth and she suddenly felt closer to him than any other person she had ever known.

"We should keep going," she whispered. He sushed her.

"Listen."

They both stopped breathing for a moment and in the silence they heard it; the distinct Rice-Krispie crunch of hard-soled shoes on frozen soil. Without a word McGee pulled her down to him and they rolled into the small hole under the roots of the enormous oak tree behind them. Their eye line was level with the ground. He slipped his hand over her mouth and his arm around her waist. The crunching sounds got louder, and were soon joined by the labored wheeze McGee remembered in his ear. In the clearing before them they suddenly saw two tan work boots, their dirty suede flecked with a dark fine spray of dried blood. The next victim's blood? Becca's brain refused to process that thought. Then she realized it could be McGee's, and fought the resultant nausea. Hanover lowered his hand, and peaking out from below the great roots above their heads Becca saw the late sun glint of the tip of the knife. There was no where they could move, no way out. If Hanover caught them in this hollow he would kill McGee. A certainty.

After a few minute, when Becca felt sure her heart would never start beating again, the boots moved on until they were out of their sightline. The wheezing faded away, and shortly even the cold crushing footsteps were too far away to hear. Not until he let her go did Becca realize just how tightly McGee had been holding her- her ribs felt the absence of his arm like a too tight dress that's finally been unzipped. He slid over the top of her out of their hiding place

Just as Becca moved to follow him an explosion of ground debris and wet earth came flying at her face. She scrambled to her feet to see Hanover behind McGee, one hand fisted in his hair to forcibly expose his throat and the other pressing the enormous hunting knife to the tender pulse of his adam's apple.

"Did you really think I was that stupid?" Hanover whispered to McGee. "Did you really think I'd head east when I know the only choice you have is to go west with the river?"

Becca reached for McGee. Hanover pressed the knife harder, and she froze when she saw the tiny drop of ruby blood collecting on its edge.

"Don't make a move towards him! I'll cut his throat right here!"

"Connor," Becca said slowly, ignoring the shock in McGee's eyes, "you don't want to do that. Killing him would make me very upset, and you don't want to upset me, do you?"

"He's your choice, isn't he? Isn't he? Did you not pay any attention to the lessons I gave you? His blood is sacred to the earth. I won't hesitate to spill it!"

"You don't have to do that. Look, Connor, just let him go. Just let him go and you and I can go wherever you like. We'll run away together-just let him go."

She could see the wheels turning in Hanover's mind, and she knew she had to play his two desires off one another; how badly he wanted to be with her versus how desperately he needed to eliminate any rivals. Suddenly his eyes hardened and she knew she'd hesitated too long-she'd lost him.

"No," he said. "I'm going to keep him and you're going to follow us. We're all going back where we came from."

She had only a second to wonder if he meant the abandoned station or the earth itself before he dragged McGee into the woods.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS**

22

"How stupid is this guy?" DiNozzo muttered as they approached the deserted outpost building. "He took his captives to a nearby area in a vehicle registered under his real name."

"Just because someone's a sociopath doesn't mean they're smart," Gibbs whispered. "If he really believes this stuff he's mish-mashed together in his head, he probably thinks he's under divine protection or something." Ziva nodded.

"If he thinks Becca is the goddess he's been chasing, he will also think no harm can come to him while he has her." DiNozzo spat on the ground.

"He's about to find out he's thinking wrong."

As they neared the building Ziva motioned Gibbs over to a patch of bare ground. On the dark soil lay two amoeba-like black stains. DiNozzo chocked back a cry.

"McGee and Becca?" he asked. Gibbs shook his head.

"These are pretty old. My guess would be Jacobs and Ortega. There'll be a fresher one around here somewhere."

They gathered around the rickety metal door and Gibbs laid a finger to his lips. He signaled DiNozzo, who kicked the door in. They thrust their guns inside to find an empty building.

"He had them here," Gibbs said as he looked over the set-up and touched the Tudor-style high backed chair. "Becca here for sure, and probably McGee in that other one."

Ziva looked around frantically at the floor and sighed as she holstered her gun. "There's no blood."

Gibbs bent down to inspect the three untied ropes and the one unraveled one on the armrests and feet of the chair when he spotted a raggedy piece of knotted oil cloth on the platform. He picked it up. It was stiff with dried saliva and ripped in two in the middle. The sides of the tear showed clean teeth marks. He clutched in his hand and felt renewed hope.

"That's my girl," he whispered before looking back at DiNozzo and Ziva. "Becca chewed through her gag and I think she used her teeth to free her right hand."

"That makes sense," DiNozzo said. "She must have helped McGee-his knots were definitely untied, not torn or cut."

Ziva threw her hands in the air. "So where are they now?"

Gibbs reached into his boot and pulled out a knife. "Somewhere out in the woods. But wherever they are now, they left here alive. Start at that door and see if we can pick up a trail. If they were running McGee would have gone towards the river."

He grimaced as they started back into the trees, knowing that their advantage was also the killer's; his city girl would have left an elephant's trail anyone could follow.

* * *

Captives and captor progressed slowly back towards the outbuilding-the smaller Hanover taking awkward steps as he kept the bowie tight against the bigger McGee and Becca trying not to trip over them and inadvertently send that blade right through McGee's windpipe. Hanover spoke little, and every word he said was to Becca, with the chilling caress of an obsessed lover.

"In another life I would have been your chosen one," he muttered. "I would have been the sacrifice. But now I am appointed your savior. It is my job to bring you back to your throne."

"But you've killed people, Connor," she pleaded with him. If she could just keep him focused on her, perhaps he would slip enough to give McGee a chance to escape. "Innocent people have died."

"Of course innocent people have died!" he snarled at her. "You cannot be queen again until the land is healed, and to heal the land needs innocent blood!"

She bit the inside of her cheek-he had such certainty in such a confused hash of stolen ideas. There was no way he had arrived at this alone.

"Who told you all this? Who anointed you to save me?"

"The wise-woman. The crone."

"Who is she, Connor? Who does the world think she is?"

She could feel his hesitation like a rotting stench hanging in the air, could almost hear his confidence splitting.

"She gave birth to me, but she says that is unimportant. She says I am a child of the Goddess and it is my task to return her to her rightful place! She told me how to do it-she laid out the steps to cast the right spell."

His mother. Of course. Only a mother could have destroyed a psyche so irretrievably.

Hanover paused for a moment to catch his breath and looked off into the trees, and in the quiet wake of his shuffling Becca heard a crunch that didn't come from any of them. It could have been an animal or just a falling branch, but Becca caught McGee's eye and knew they were thinking the same thing. McGee's eyes widened at her and she nodded her head just enough for him to see. Keep him distracted.

"Connor, I still don't understand a lot of what you told me this morning. You made it sound so simple but can you explain it to me again?" Becca tilted her head coquettishly at him. She saw Hanover's eyes soften and prayed she could hold him long enough for whoever was out there to get to them.

"I told you, the gods marked you to let me know..."

"Connor Hanover! NCIS!"

Gibbs voice shook the air like a slack rope continuing to vibrate after it's been pulled tight. Everything tensed up; the space between the three hunted and the three hunters, Becca's nerves, the knife against McGee's neck.

"I won't hurt her!" Hanover called out-even his voice had grown rigid and thin-strung. He seemed to have completely forgotten he had a blade pressed to a man's jugular, and Becca looked at Gibbs. If he could forget he had a man's life in his hands, he might forget not to take it.

"What do you want, Connor?" Gibbs asked evenly. Hanover motioned his head towards Becca.

"I want her to come with me." DiNozzo took a step towards him, and Hanover tightened his hold on McGee. Gibbs waved DiNozzo down, set his gun on the forest floor and put his hands up.

"That's not gonna happen, Connor. You try to take her out of here and you won't make it. Not alive."

"You give me her, I give you him. That will be the trade."

Gibbs looked at McGee-McGee stared back at him, and in his blank eyes Gibbs read everything he needed to know.

"No. No deal. She stays with me."

Ziva leaned over to DiNozzo. "Can you take Hanover out?" she whispered. He shook his head, sweat dripping down his temples.

"Not yet. Not without hitting McGee." Gibbs glanced at him.

"Hanover, if you let him go, we'll let you walk out of here. No one has to die today."

Hanover shook his head. "The Goddess came into her kingdom. Blood must be shed." Gibbs nodded.

"Ok, ok." He took his knife and Becca winced as he sliced the palm of his hand and bent down to squeeze a trickling stream of red onto the cold ground. "There. Now will you let him go?"

Hanover's eyes darted wildly from Gibbs to DiNozzo to Becca, and she saw the confusion in them. Please, she begged. Please.

"We're both leaving," he said slowly as he backed McGee up into the woods, and Becca had to give him his due-McGee was the best bait he could have picked to lure her back to him.

He won't kill him, she thought to herself. It will break his pattern, and his pattern is everything. He won't.

"DiNozzo, Ziva," Gibbs said as Hanover and McGee sank deeper into the trees. "Put down your guns."

"Gibbs..."

"Do it."

Becca fastened her gaze on McGee and felt her panic rising like bile in her throat until Hanover pulled him behind a branch and shadows blocked her vision of his blue eyes. Suddenly she knew that if she didn't go after him she would never see those eyes alive again. She shouted his name, barely evaded Gibbs' attempt to grab her and dove into the forest.

She caught up with them easily enough. Hanover had McGee on his knees and the knife was no longer flat against his throat-it was turned, poised for its purpose, and Hanover's arm held it high and taut. He looked at her, and the rage burning into her soul from his felt like heated needles puncturing her heart. Becca tore her attention from him and turned it to McGee. The conviction in his eyes suddenly lit her on fire with anger. You may be ready for you to die, she thought, but I'm not. She let Hanover see her tears slip out.

"Please," she pleaded with him. "Please Connor. Don't do this to me."

He raised the knife and just as it flashed to his prisoner's throat he sliced a deep gash in McGee's arm and disappeared into the woods.

* * *

Becca pulled the bottom of his pants leg off her head and ran to him. She pressed the rag against his arm as hard as she could and screamed.

"Gibbs! Help!"

Soon she was surrounded by her team and her heart slowed down, the blood returned to her brain.

"Call a chopper-Hanover slashed him pretty deep." McGee gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"I'm fine...I'm...Jesus, that's a lot of blood." Gibbs took over for Becca.

"Stop talking," he said as DiNozzo radioed for the helicopter. "Just breathe."

Within a few minutes the chopper set down in the nearest clearing and they walked McGee to his waiting seat where Ziva took out the aid kit and bound his arm.

"You need stitches," she whispered, "but I believe that will hold until we get to the hospital."

Becca just hung her head between her knees and took in deep breaths of the scent of Gibbs' wool coat and DiNozzo's cologne. She drifted in and out of attention until she felt the clunking shake of the chopper wheels hitting a solid landing. A platoon of people in blue scrubs pulled McGee from the chopper and physically forced him onto a gurney over his protests. Only once Ziva gently guided her into the next elevator did she recognize they were in Bethesda. The last time she had been here, it had been after the car crash. She turned to Ziva and smiled weakly.

"How did you find us?"

"In-between things. Oak trees. Rivers shaped like crescent moons."

"So basically Gibbs' gut?"

"Yes. Gibbs' gut."

When they got down to the emergency floor Ziva handed Becca off to a resident who looked her over and declared her, aside from minor cuts and bruises, a little rope burn and a developing case of the jitters, to be fit for discharge. All at once she heard a familiar voice bellowing down the length of the ER.

"Let me go! I don't care if she's still being seen! Listen, punk, I'm DCPD and if you don't-yeah, that's right back off! Bex!"

Barnes swept the curtain aside and all but literally kicked the resident out. He got on his knees and laid his head in her lap.

"Oh my God, baby...Baby I just..." He clung to her like a life preserver in the ocean, and she felt strangely detached, as if she were watching her own life from some objective place above.

"I'm ok," she said calmly as she stroked his head. "He didn't hurt me, Cody. He barely touched me."

"But he's still out there! He's still gonna kill people and he's still gonna come after you!"

"This time we know everything about him. We'll be read...wait, how did you know all that?"

"I just got done talking with DiNozzo. Becca, I'm gonna talk with Gibbs. You can't be alone-he'll assign you protection duty,, and I'm going to head it."

"He'll never allow it."

"We'll see about that. I'm a very persuasive man."

Like water rolling off a duck's back, she thought with a bitter smile, but she gave him a quick kiss and let him go. She understood Barnes-he was a man of action, and not doing something would drive him crazy.

Later, when Ziva came to check on her, her cool manner was rapidly disintegrating.

"Ziva, where's McGee? Did he go into surgery?"

"No, it was not as bad as it looked. They were able to give him a local and stitch him up bedside."

"What room?"

"Becca, Gibbs wants you to stay calm and rest..."

"Fuck Gibbs! What room, Ziva?"

"403."

Becca dashed of her bed and ran for the stairs. She had been deathly tired before and yet somehow her entire body felt infused with pure energy; she took the stairs two at a time until she skidded on the fourth floor landing. When she reached his open door she had to catch the frame to stop from sliding right across the hallway. McGee sat on the bed opening and closing his left hand and bending that elbow, wincing as the torn muscles slowly flexed. She stood in the doorway for a long time, unable to leave but unwilling to disturb him. She wanted to watch him just like that, with his hair in his eyes and the sweep of his long lashes against his cheekbone and the swell of his lower lip. In profile she could pretend things were still the same- if she spoke he would turn and she would see in his eyes that it wasn't.

He turned anyway.

"Hi."

She physically willed her eyes not to tear.

"How's your arm?"

"Ugly. They gave me a strong local so it only aches a little. Tomorrow'll suck though."

"Did I really almost die on the floor of your car?"

It took him a moment to make the switch in topics.

"Yeah," he finally whispered. "You passed out. I tried to get you to wake up but you were just quiet. Your head fell back against the floor and I just sat there for what seemed like hours, screaming your name until it didn't sound like my own voice anymore, twisting around and watching the pool of blood get bigger and bigger. Then when they finally came and tried to put you on the stretcher they couldn't get a pulse. They had to shock you right there on the floor of the car. They tried to get me to ride in the second ambulance but I couldn't...I thought if you died on the way to the ER and I wasn't there to tell Gibbs what happened, to tell Ducky... They had to shock you three times in all, Bex. Then when we got to the hospital you almost died again, from your brain swelling so fast, but they couldn't operate right away because you had lost so much blood. The last thing...the last thing I saw before they took me away was they turned you to get you on to another gurney and the back of your head...all your beautiful hair was just matted in a big clump of blood. You...you have no memory of any of it and I will never forget it as long as I live."

He finally looked up at her, and when their eyes met the anguish in hers made his entire body ache.

"You almost died today," she whispered. "You almost died and close to the last words I said to you were 'go to hell.'"

He rushed to her and she collapsed against him, sobbing like she had never cried before in her life. She cried for her worthless father and her lost mother and her overwhelmed sister and for her sick grandmother and she cried for Gibbs all alone and for the perfectly normal man Hanover might have been if not for his mother and for every victim and childless mother and motherless child she had ever spoken to in her entire career and for all her pride and stubbornness and stupidity and pain and confusion and when she couldn't cry anymore she clung to McGee, clung to him and allowed herself to pass out of any knowledge but the physical weight of his good arm around her, anchoring her.

"I did almost die today," he whispered into her hair. "I almost died today and you had to watch the whole thing." He lifted her chin up to look at him. "I guess that makes us even. Truce?"

She nodded against his fingers. He smiled softly at her. "Maybe we should also make a deal not to berate each other in public."

Becca gently hit his leg. "Don't make me laugh. There's nothing funny about this."

He waved her off. "In five years it'll make a great story. You know, after we catch the piece of shit."

"Just promise me something, McGee."

"Anything."

"Don't you never ever let me see you that prepared to die ever again."

I will always be prepared to die to protect you, he thought. Always. But he just rubbed her back and nodded.

"You will never see it again. Promise."

* * *

**Ouch. My brain is now tired from running around in the woods. Up next: McGee in his Dr. Who pajama bottoms with the little lasers and Becca's urge to take them off. Promise.**

**P.S.-The Caledon State Park and Natural Area on the Virginian side of the Potomac River is home to 250+ year-old oak trees and the largest collection of nesting bald eagles on the East Coast. Check it out; it's absolutely breathtaking.**


	23. Chapter 23

**I know compared to my usual speed I took FOREVER to post, but I didn't feel I could put up anything more until I was able to give poor McGee a little hope.**

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

23

Gibbs walked into the office and took stock of his people-DiNozzo mute and brooding, Ziva sneaking nervous glances at him every few seconds, McGee trying not to rub on the ungainly bandage that had to be itching under his sports coat, and Becca running around like she was hyped up on Dexedrine, trying too hard to be useful and succeeding only in subtly irritating everyone. Gibbs sucked in a deep breath. He had hoped to get back to work, but he finally felt forced to confront the fact that this last crisis had really taken it out of his team. Normally he believed in tough love, getting everything back to normal as quickly as possible, but he had to admit that taking it easy might be better.

He chewed on his lip. They just couldn't afford to take it easy-it wasn't their decision whether or not a sailor died on their watch, and in the downtime, there was a murderous madman out there after one of their own. He hated this. He hated these moments when he had to treat these people who meant everything to him like they were inexhaustible machines who didn't tire or frustrate or depress, but they simply didn't have a choice. That was the job they signed up for, and sometimes the job tossed them back shit in repayment for all the dedication they gave to it.

And on top of it all they had another problem to deal with. Somehow, somewhere in this office, they had a leak.

Gibbs walked around and tossed a copy of the morning's _Tribune _on every desk.

"I'm not blaming anyone," he said softly. "I'm just saying that someone better figure out a way to explain this to me."

Becca picked up the paper under her nose and her eyes widened. Beneath an old press conference photo of Gibbs from an earlier case the thick black headline screamed 'Navy Investigators Let Fanatical Killer Slip Through Their Grasp Once Again.' The byline was that of Terrance Graham, a name she recognized from several Tribune front page exclusives and whistleblower stories. Ziva started to read aloud.

"This reporter has already made the public aware of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service's inability to make progress or arrest a suspect in connection to the wave of recent murders sweeping through local Naval and Marine ranks. Now unnamed sources have assured me that not only was NCIS unable to take the murderer into custody when they caught up with him in the Caledon Natural Area three days ago, they also mismanaged the entire investigation by failing to realize that their man was on the inside, working the same bloody crime scenes he had created. As chief agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs stubbornly refuses to allow local law enforcement to assist his team on this case, this reporter does not believe an end to the mayhem is in sight and strongly encourages all Naval, Marine and Coast Guard personnel to assume vigilant responsibility for their own personal safety." By the time she finished reading Ziva's voice trembled with barely controlled anger.

"You realize what this means?" McGee said. "Every squid and jarhead with a weapons license if gonna start packing and shooting without asking questions. We're gonna have a big mess on our hands."

DiNozzo threw his pencil down so hard it snapped in two. "We've already got a big mess on our hands. It's Graham. The more craziness he can incite the more front page slots he gets."

"He's right."

All four agents turned to look at Gibbs with disbelief, and the sadness in their boss's eyes let them know he wasn't joking.

"We didn't bring him in from Caledon. We had extenuating circumstances, but he still got away, and it's also true that if we had of contacted New York earlier, we probably wouldn't have five bodies on our hands."

"Wait," Becca said as she held up her fingers and counted. "Jacobs, Beechman, Ortega, Turner..."

"And Delaney. Just got a call from DCPD. Ensign Robin Delaney."

DiNozzo groaned. "Lemme guess. Middle-aged white female." Gibbs nodded.

"Fifty-two, and..." he stole a quick look at McGee, whose face told Gibbs that what he was about to say would not be a surprise, "she's been dead for about four days."

Becca nodded. "After he drugged McGee the second time Hanover left. I don't how the exact time, but it was quite a while. Several hours."

As they grabbed their gear McGee stole a look at Becca, expecting her to be at least a little distraught, but her demeanor took him by total surprise. She acted calm, poised, and if he didn't know her he would say she almost seemed relieved. Becca caught him staring at her and shook her head.

"I just...I've been racking my brain for the past few days and it's been driving crazy. I couldn't figure it out until now."

"Couldn't figure what out?"

"Why Hanover didn't kill you."

McGee's heart skipped. He'd wondered that himself but had been too afraid of what the answer might be to really ponder it. He shrugged. "He's obsessed with you, Bex, and you begged him not to."

"Yeah, I begged with the human part of me. He's not interested in me as a human, McGee. I'm a symbol to him, but with this latest murder I realized....Hanover said something to you-'You're almost perfect. If you were a woman I could kill you now without breaking the spell'. I think...after he realized that I wasn't going with him no matter what, I think you were safe. He really believes that if he casts this spell long enough, this pattern of specific victims, he'll catch me in some magical web. You don't fit the pattern. You weren't a worthy victim."

He scrunched his nose. "I don't know whether to be grateful or insulted."

"It's Hanover that should be grateful," she breathed, and he recognized the deadly note in her voice. "If he had killed you I would have killed him. With my bare hands."

McGee took her hand and squeezed it. "We will catch him, Bex. His hands are tied by his fanaticism. He won't leave the area and he won't chance his victim type."

She laced her fingers through his and ran her other hand as gingerly as she could down his left arm. "Your poor arm. Since you met me be it's been dislocated, bruised, sliced all to hell..."

He loved the way she casually touched him, like being close to him was just a natural extension of their friendship. He gently chuffed her on the chin.

"Scars are hot. I can stop telling people my appendectomy was a knife fight. Come one, lets go."

Ziva watched them walk to the elevator and looked at DiNozzo. "Do you think that this is it then? Will they finally realize how they feel?" DiNozzo winced.

"Becca's too clueless and McGee's too timid. Besides, I know how tenacious Barnes can be when he thinks he's losing his grip on something. By the way, I need to swing by the drugstore when we leave tonight-I'm out of razor blades."

"We will get your things ready when we arrive."

"What are you talking about?" Ziva looked down at her shoes and, to DiNozzo's great surprise and amusement, a hint of a blush crept over her cheeks.

"We know Hanover's after Becca-I do not see any need to..."

"You don't see any need? I would bet any money you want that Hanover's got address info on all of us and you fit the pattern for the next victim like a glove. I'm not going anywhere. Now let's go, we're gonna get there late and I hate catching it from Gibbs when he's like this."

"I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, Tony," she continued as she jogged to catch up to him. "More than capable." DiNozzo whirled and she smacked into his chest, and he wrapped an unyielding arm around her before she could back up.

"I can't do anything, Ziva," he whispered on her lips. "Hanover's out there and he's after Becca and I can't do anything but I can help protect you. You gotta let me have this. Just let me pretend that I'm making a difference, ok? You can give me that, can't you?"

She would never admit it but it sent a little thrill of heat through her when he let her see this part of him, this serious dangerous intense side. It reminded her of Somalia, how he had faced down an international terrorist one breath away from killing him like they were settling a parking dispute over a couple of beers. She laid one hand lightly on his shoulder and with the other slowly peeled his fingers off her hip.

"When Gibbs is ready to remove you from my detail he'll tell us. He hasn't said anything yet."


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

24

When Becca got home that night Barnes was in the kitchen micro-waving popcorn. She tossed her coat on the entryway table and the flurry of wool sent a yellow paper floating to the floor. She picked it up and instantly went into the kitchen.

"What is this?" she asked curtly. Barnes looked sheepish.

"Damnit! That was supposed to be a surprise. I took your car into the shop yesterday-I know winter's over and it's been warm but I hate the idea of you taking that thing all the way into the Yard every day."

Becca scanned the receipt and began to panic. "Replaced rack and pinion, replaced transmission, serviced engine, brake service with new pads, rotations...Cody, there's two thousand dollars worth of work here!"

He smiled a little, and Becca felt a cold nub of misgiving coalescing in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed hard in an attempt to clear it out.

"Cody how did you afford all this?" He waved his hand dismissively at her.

"You've been so busy lately that I picked up some extra work-moonlighting for other precincts, stuff like that. I was just bored-I didn't really need that money so....look, I just like taking care of you, ok?" She shook her head.

"I was a cop, remember? Did you clear this with your captain? This sort of thing can get you in big trouble!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's all on the up and up, Sugar, don't worry." He leaned over and gave her a salty kiss. "Just enjoy having a nice, smooth ride."

Just then the phone rang, and Becca took the excuse to let the conversation drop- she had no justification for her suspicions.

"Compston. Hey Gibbs, what...what? Um, yeah, ok, sure..." She handed the receiver to Barnes. "He wants to speak with you."

Barnes raised an eyebrow at her as he took the phone. "Agent Gibbs. Detective Barnes here. Yes, I'll be here all night. Of course I have my piece. I...yes sir. Absolutely sir. And you've spoken with my captain? Of course. Understood, thank you sir." When he hung up he had a triumphant grin on his face.

"Gibbs's borrowed me from my squad and put me on protective custody for you. Whenever you're not with your team, I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight until Hanover's caught."

Becca took the hug he offered and hid her face in his chest. It made sense that Gibbs would go to Barnes first. A protective custody detail was one of the most incredibly intrusive duties a cop could perform, and it was better when the subject knew their protector. She had been on a PCD when she was twenty-two for an elderly woman who had witnessed a mob hit, and the two remained close until Mrs. Watson had died last year. But she couldn't shake the chilly feeling that refused to materialize into a concrete threat, just sat all lumpy and spreading in her insides and let her know that somewhere, somehow, something wasn't right.

* * *

Early the next morning Becca pulled McGee aside and shushed him when he questioned her.

"I need you to do something for me," she whispered. "I need you to do it without saying anything about it to me or to anyone, and I need you to do it without judgment." Before he could answer she laid her fingers over his lips. "I need you to hack into Cody's credit receipts."

He looked at her for a long time and patted her shoulder. "I'll do it later. Gibbs needs us down in the morgue."

In the basement Mallard had Ensign Delaney out on the slab and as the team filed into the lab he handed each one a mask. Gibbs refused his.

"I'm afraid the recent warm weather and the last two days' rain did a real number on Ms. Delaney. The reason we're just now receiving her is that they had to use her dental records to identify her." DiNozzo grimaced.

"We don't normally get them like this," he said as he looked at the swollen green-streaked face, the slimy pock-marked eyelids sunken against the empty sockets. Mallard shook his head.

"Quite right, Anthony, but we have a bigger problem then rapid decomposition." He pulled the white cloth down to expose her neck and Gibbs cursed under his breath. A wide gash ran from carotid to carotid, straight and clean-edged.

"A gillie knife," Mallard whispered as he looked meaningfully at Becca. "Known in America as a bowie." She shuddered and shook her head.

"This isn't right. What makes you think it's Hanover?" Wordlessly Mallard turned Delaney's head so everyone could see where the top of her right ear had been sliced off.

"He's slipping," McGee said. "Caledon changed his ideas of what he can and can't do." Gibbs pulled on a glove and pressed two fingers against Delaney's open artery.

"When you hold a knife to a strong pulse point, you can feel the vibration through the metal against your fingers. It's powerful; it either repulses you or intoxicates you." Becca looked away from the body.

"He kept me quiet with that knife when McGee came after me outside the office. It was my pulse he felt." Gibbs caught her eyes with his.

"This isn't your fault."

"Isn't it? If he hadn't have seen me in New York he would never have followed me here. None of these people would be dead."

"No, just another five in the Bronx. You didn't do anything to make this happen, Bex. This is Hanover's fault, and his mother's fault. She created a monster and he did nothing to slow her down."

"So," Ziva said as she cleared her throat and looked nervously at DiNozzo. "How long do we have before we find the sixth body?"

"We're not going to find a sixth body," Becca whispered. Everyone turned to look at her, and Gibbs led her out into the hallway.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't do this anymore Gibbs-he wants me, he's after me, and he thinks these killings are going to get me for him. He won't stop."

"He stopped in New York."

"So what, we just give up and let him kill three more, four more, until he finds a new girl to terrorize? What if he never gives up? What if it's never over?"

Gibbs nodded-normally he didn't indulge this sort of panic but he could hear that underpinning in her voice that let him know she had a plan. Becca dropped her chin to her chest and let out a sigh.

"I want to draw him out, Gibbs. There's only one thing he'll do anything to get."

"Too dangerous. You've been in harm's way enough already."

"Isn't that my choice?"

"No."

She held her hands up. "Fine. You're the boss. You let me know how many people you want to die before you're willing to take a risk." She left Gibbs standing there watching after her as she stormed down the hall and up the stairs.

"She'll never admit how badly Caledon got to her." Gibbs turned around to see McGee standing behind him, and Gibbs smiled ironically.

"You're the one who wound up with the busted arm." He glanced up the stairs. "We need her head in the game. You got this?"

In answer McGee took the stairs two at a time. He found Becca clutching the edge of her desk sucking in deep breaths, and the moment he put a tentative hand on her shoulder she turned, drew his sports coat off and yanked his left sleeve up to his shoulder. She lightly traced her fingers over the bruised, puckered flesh pulling at either side of his stitches, then laid her forehead on his chest and ran her hands down his sides to clutch at the tucked-in tails of his shirt.

"I'm losing my mind," she breathed against his buttons. "I can't do my job, I can't go home without thinking it'll be the last time I have my freedom, I'm turning into a crazy paranoid who's willing to risk her life just to get a little sanity."

Goddammit she was driving him crazy. This wasn't a friendly smack on the arm-he could feel her fingers digging into his hips and through the thin weave of his shirt her breath warmed on his chest. Did she actually think she could touch him like this and not expect him to...

"Come out for a drink with me tonight." Before he'd even realized he'd said it, it was out, and she backed up from him with a dubious glance.

"We're in the middle of a murder investigation, McGee."

"I know, I just...you need a break, to get your head put back together straight. Maybe if you just pretend for a little while that everything's normal you can come back to it with fresh eyes."

"I...I can't. Gibbs put Cody on a PCD with me. He'll be coming to pick me up-when I'm not with the team I'm not supposed to go anywhere without him."

He took her elbow and drew her back close to him. "And you don't think you'll be safe with me?" She blushed, and he looked twice to make sure he hadn't imagined it. What was he doing? She was right; if Gibbs found out she'd skipped her detail he'd be furious at both of them and besides, McGee acknowledged with an inward sigh, she wasn't his girl.

But she was, a small piece of him protested. She was his partner and the closest thing he had to a best friend and what he wanted more than anything else in the world. If anyone would ever be his girl, it was her.

"Look, McGee, it's a little rough with me and Cody right now, and I know he's hiding things from me. I just trying to keep it together and I don't think it's a good idea right now."

She gave him a quick hug and the smell of her skin flooded his brain. "I'll be ok, I promise. I just really need to catch Hanover. Come on, I'm sure Gibbs is waiting on us."

After she'd left McGee stood in the middle of the quad staring at the space on the floor where she had been. He turned when he heard a noise behind him to see Abby standing there looking at him with her arms crossed.

"She's still with that guy?"

He shrugged. "They've only been together a little more than a month."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that act like you don't care. I know you better than that." She sighed. "McGee, just admit you're in love with her."

He was too shocked to even try to deny it. "How do you know that?"

"Seriously? McGee, the night shift janitor knows that."

The truth was so absurd that he couldn't do anything but laugh, and she laughed with him. After a minute he took a deep breath and shrugged again.

"I've given up, Abby. She's the one. I thought for sure that after Caledon she'd get it, but she's got this idea of how her life should work and apparently I don't fit into it."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Wait, I guess. There's just no point in trying to move on or get over her or anything like that. She's it for me, Abby. If I can't get her to see it I'm just going to be a lonely, bitter old man obsessed with his work and that's just how it's gonna be."

That night, lying in bed awake with his thoughts, McGee suddenly sprang up and rushed to his computer. Sometimes using his security clearance codes and sometimes just good old-fashioned hacking, he finally pulled up Cody Barnes' bank and credit statements. If Becca thought something was up, he wasn't going to be the one to convince her she was wrong.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

25

The next morning Abby had just started analyzing the dirt from the bottom of Delaney's shoes when she heard the door to her lab slide open. She smiled to herself-old habits die hard.

"McGee, just because we chatted yesterday doesn't mean I'm your personal therapi...hi." Abby replaced her sarcastic smirk with a bright smile when she saw Becca standing behind her.

"Hey, um, are you busy? What am I talking about; of course you are. I'll just come back later..." Abby rushed forward, grabbed her arm and thumped her down in the swivel chair.

"You get right back in here. I may be stuck in a smelly chemical basement but I know when one of my chicas needs girl talk. Spill."

"I won't distract you?" Abby smiled and turned back to her table.

"I can shoe scrape and girl talk at the same time."

Becca took a deep breath and forced herself to stop chewing on her peeling lip. "I think maybe...I think McGee asked me out yesterday and I blew him off."

"Oh you mean when he asked if you wanted to get a drink with him?"

"You were watching?" Abby blushed.

"Well, I had to bring paperwork up for Gibbs to sign and I didn't want to be all elephant from _The Jungle Book_ and crunch through everything. But what's the big deal? We go out for drinks sometimes. I mean, not now when we're all wound so tight and ready to explode, liquor's probably a bad idea, but I don't get..."

"I know, but it was just something in the way he said it, and how he looked at me when he did, that made me think..."

Abby raised her eyebrows at her. "That maybe it was less of a coworker thing and more of a date thing?"

"Yeah."

Abby fought jumping up and down and shaking Becca. She liked her, she honestly did, which rarely happened with women and even more rarely with women who got close to McGee, but for all her brilliance Becca was thumpingly thick sometimes. If a man she liked half as much as Becca obviously liked McGee paid her even a quarter of the attention McGee paid Becca, she would have had him in bed ages ago. But then, Abby acknowledged with an inward shrug, she didn't care a lot about things like anti-fraternization rules and the complications of juggling two men at one time. She just did what she wanted. She waved a dismissive hand at Becca.

"I wouldn't worry about it. I mean, come one; you're not supposed to go anywhere with anyone when you've got a PCD, and we don't know where Hanover's picking up his victims now-Sam's place is basically a Yard bar. And besides, doesn't your boyfriend hate McGee's guts?"

Becca suppressed a smile. "He's not too fond of him."

"I say let it go. And if you change your mind, you can always just say 'Hey, I'll take you up on that drink." You and McGee are like, best friends. He totally gets it."

"Yeah. Yeah I guess. Thanks Abs."

"No problem. How's the case going?"

"Crappy. Now that we know his identity, we've been taking apart Hanover's life. He was born in New York, no father to speak of, and his mother was in and out of psychiatric facilities. When Hanover was eleven NYCPS removed him permanently. His mother died nine years ago. Too bad. I would have really liked a chance to get into that crazy bitch's face. Anyway, I think I'd better get back to the quad."

"I'd be careful going upstairs if Gibbs has gotten here. He called me this morning in a real hissy fit. Something about the newspaper."

All of a sudden Becca had an urge to rip something apart. "Abby, do you have a copy of the _Tribune_ down here by chance?"

"Yeah, over on the side table by my Caf-Pow. Why?"

In answer Becca snapped open the A section and scanned until she found what she was looking for. It was Monday, the day Terrance Graham did a rundown column of updates to his latest stories. Sure enough, the third blurb down the list contained four familiar letters.

"'Undoubtedly in response to my earlier article, Agent Gibbs of NCIS recently accepted the assistance of a few select DCPD detectives in the continued investigation if the Left-Side Killer. I feel confident that this humble step will ensure faster results for the safety of the Navy and the general public.' Shit, I'd like to get my hands around that sleazeball's neck and...wait, what is he talking about? There's no DCPD assist on this case."

Abby made a face. "Well, not _really_, but..."

"What?"

"Isn't the head of your PCD your boyfriend? Isn't he DCPD? Oh..." she started as she saw the look of stunned realization spread over Becca's face. "I'm sorry, Bex. I didn't mean to imply..."

"No, it's ok Abs, you didn't do anything. I just...I have to go talk to Tony. I'll let you know when I find out something."

Becca climbed the stairs slowly, and with every step she felt the weight in her stomach getting heavier. Somehow, without any proof but her own gut and a few coincidences, she felt the closer she got to DiNozzo's desk the closer she got to something she didn't want to know. She could have brushed off all this suspicion but for one thing. Gibbs rule number one-there are no coincidences. DiNozzo sat at his desk staring at his computer screen and clicking occasionally; the instant she saw the serious glare of his eyes under his furrowed brows she knew it was case related and she felt terrible about disturbing him. He had been far from his usual happy-go-lucky self since her and McGee's abduction, and she was about to add to his worries.

"Tony, we need to talk."

He looked up and flashed her a quick grin. "I'm not taking a paternity test- I swear it's not mine."

She didn't laugh and drew her chair up to his to sit down so their knees touched. His smile disappeared. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not gonna like this?"

"I know you've talked to Cody about the case. Right before New York got involved McGee was mad because Cody had called you asking questions, and at the hospital he said you had told him some things. I need you to tell me everything you told him."

DiNozzo looked sheepish for just a moment before his eyes met hers defensively. "Why?"

"Because just after Cody got angry about Gibbs not involving the DCPD, Terrence Graham writes that NCIS is 'stubbornly refusing to allow local law enforcement to assist the team,' and two days after he puts Cody in charge of my PCD, we get this morning's blurb. And Graham's named him the Left-Side Killer. Only us and the Bronx know about that. Those details were never released to the New York press and they weren't released here."

DiNozzo was quiet, and Becca laid her he hand on his knee. "Look, I was a cop too, remember? We trust one another, we have to, and yeah, sometimes we talk under the table. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred it's just harmless chit-chat but...Tony, I'm not mad and I'm not calling you a leak. I just need to know if there's a good reason I should suspect my boyfriend did something I really, really hope he didn't do."

When DiNozzo finally spoke his voice was soft and gruff. "I told Barnes some things I probably shouldn't have. At first it seemed like innocent questions, but later...I told myself that if someone were after my woman I'd want somebody to fill me in too but...I've been thinking the same thing since that first article."

"What did you tell him?"

"About how we discovered Hanover's weird religious obsessions and what you symbolize to him, how he's after you specifically." Becca closed her eyes and nodded painfully.

"Goddammit it all makes sense. I couldn't figure out why Graham would leave out the most explosive part, that NCIS caught up to Hanover in the woods _because_ they were recovering two abducted agents."

"Graham didn't know. But what source would have a motive to leave out that juicy tidbit?" He grimaced when she stared at him tight-jawed. "Yeah, I can't think of anyone else either."

"Am I interrupting anything?" They turned to see McGee standing behind them with a folder in his hand, and DiNozzo fought back a grin when he realized how quickly Becca pulled her hand off his knee. She awkwardly twisted a short curl around her finger.

"No, you didn't, we were just, um...what have you got there?"

"Can we talk? Privately?"

"Is it about what I asked you earlier?" He nodded, and she sighed. "Then you can say it in front of Tony."

He hesitated just a moment before he opened the folder. "I got into Barnes' recent financial records and you were right. No increase in his direct deposit advances from the precinct but there are substantial deposits from an unnamed source. I managed to track the check numbers and they lead back to-"

"The _Tribune_," Becca and DiNozzo finished together. McGee's eyes narrowed.

"How did you know that?"

Becca couldn't look him in the eye. "Never mind. I think the two of you should go find Gibbs. Let him know what you've found." McGee took a step towards her, and she still refused to look at him; she knew if she met his gaze the concern in his blue eyes would destroy her.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently.

"Of course. He's compromising a military investigation."

"Bex..." He reached a hand out to her shoulder, and balked when she shied away from him.

"McGee, just...look, you need to go find Gibbs now. If he finds out we knew about this and didn't come to him immediately he's gonna get really pissed."

McGee held up his folder. "You know when I give him this Barnes will not only be off your PCD- Gibbs won't let him come within thirty feet of you."

She swallowed hard. "I know."

Just as they left Ziva came up from the elevator with a full coffee carrier to find Becca alone and forlorn in the center of an eerily quiet quad.

"What did I miss?"

For some reason she didn't understand Becca felt like laughing maniacally. "My life is a mess."

"What's the phrase? Join the party?"

"The club."

"Yeah," Ziva said as she handed her a coffee. "That too."

* * *

A half hour later Gibbs gathered everyone in the quad. Becca cleared her throat nervously. "What did Cody have to say?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I took it up with his captain-I don't want to talk to him." Becca nodded and looked down at her shoes. After a second's pause Gibbs held his arms out to her and she smiled tightly.

"I don't need a hug Gibbs; I'm fine."

"I'm not asking. Get over here." He wrapped a quick arm around her and squeezed lightly. "It'll be ok. We do our jobs, take care of our people, and it'll all be alright. You believe that, right?"

"I don't know anymore."

"You trust me, don't you?"

"Always."

"Well ok then." He let her go and turned to look at everyone. "From now on, no one talks to anyone about the case but the six of us and Ducky. Not the assistants, not the CSU's, not the SecNav, not Vance, not your mother, no one. Got it?"

DiNozzo stood at attention and looked up at the ceiling. "Boss, I take full responsibility for my actions and will be happy with whatever punishment you see fit. Even if you keel-haul me. Please don't keel-haul me."

Gibbs took a deep breath and waved him off. "We'll deal with it later. We've got to have everyone's heads on this and as much as I'd like to take after yours with a baseball bat, I'm gonna need it. Alright I'm sick of this crap. DiNozzo, take Hanover's picture and start canvassing every squid and jarhead bar in the city. He can't get onto the Yard anymore-he's gonna have to go outside for his type. Ziva go with him. New rule; no one goes anywhere alone. McGee, start sending Hanover's photo and description to all law enforcement in a fifty mile radius. Don't tell them anything, just say he's wanted by the Navy and to take him into custody. Becca, you get down to the lab with Abby-she's got a lot of evidence to process and you can help her do that. Oh and McGee, you're on PCD for Becca until further notice."

Everyone froze. Ziva sucked in her breath. "Oh...."

Becca looked around with panic in her eyes at everybody's wincing face. "Oh...what?"

"Ziva..." Gibbs said warningly. She put her palms in the air.

"Just...am I the only one who remembers what happened the last time McGee had a protective custody detail?"

Becca raised her hand. "Hello! New team member! What happened?"

McGee scoffed. "Nothing happened."

"Eh," DiNozzo said, "_something_ happened."

"What happened!?"

Gibbs slammed the case file down on DiNozzo's desk. "Dammit, why does is everyone second-guessing me all of a sudden? If I say McGee's on PCD, he's on PCD!" And no, Ziva," he said as she opened her mouth, "it is not time for Tony to leave your apartment. How much clearer do I have to be? Until we catch Hanover, nobody is alone, ever. Nobody!"

"Who's gonna protect Abby?" McGee called out as Gibbs stormed off to his office.

"Abby's protected!" he hollered back. They turned to look at her, and she shrugged.

"I've been sleeping in Gibbs' guest bedroom for the past two weeks."


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

26

Becca could feel McGee's eyes darting nervously from the floor of the elevator to her face like a hyperactive hummingbird, and she got the distinct sensation he was waiting for her to explode, but she was far from explosive. She felt cold, focused. Murderous.

He had lied to her. Barnes had stood in her kitchen casually filling it with that horrid overcooked microwave-popcorn smell and given her a kiss and told her everything was good with his captain. Had his captain even known? Had Gerald?

She was tired of being betrayed. Every little time when she thought that maybe her mother was finally serious and every time they had repacked her bags three weeks later, New York when she thought she had at last found something stable and lasting and her illusions had been blown to pathetic bits, and now when she really believed that she had achieved a true fresh start. Even Gibbs-she tried to keep him from knowing but he had really hurt her when he had left and still, thirteen years later she felt it. He would give her a quick hug and she would smell his aftershave and she would be a little girl again clinging to the only solid thing she could remember. She heard McGee start the car she didn't recall getting into, and she slumped down in her seat until the seatbelt lay across her cheek and stared out the window.

"It's gonna be an awful long drive all the way to Falls Church if you're gonna be that way," he said after a few minutes. She kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on his dashboard.

"I'm sorry, how would you like me to behave? What would make you feel better, McGee? There's a murderous maniac after me and my boyfriend is a liar and a snitch who compromised my investigation but I will put on a smiley face if it'll make you happy."

"It would, thank you. You know, has anyone ever told you that you have a temper?"

"No," she sniped as she pointed at her hair glowing in the green light of the dash. "No one has ever in my life put two and two together and informed me I have a bit of an anger problem. What are you grinning at?"

"Your accent comes out when you get mad."

She smiled in spite of herself. "I'm not mad, I'm just...I'm tired. I feel like every time I give someone a piece of myself they trample all over it with football cleats. You know the stupidest part? Cody used that extra money from Graham to fix my car, like he was hurting me to help me. How bizarre is that?"

"Oh no-you're not getting me to play this game. If I get started on Barnes you will have to listen to an epic Shakespearean soliloquy." Her phone buzzed and she didn't answer. "Who's that?"

"Cody. He's been calling me every five minutes since about a half hour after Gibbs spoke with his captain."

He took a deep breath and his bottom lip stuck out, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She knew that face.

"Bex, give me the phone."

"No."

"Give me your phone."

"No-what are you gonna do?"

"I'm not gonna _do_ anything, just give it to me!"

"No way!"

"Bex, don't make me come over there and take it from you!"

"Don't you know it's dangerous to wrestle and drive?"

"I swear to God, Bex, if I have to take the wheel with my left arm so I can get at you with my right and my stitches pop you will face serious consequences now give me the damn phone!"

She handed it to him, and after he pushed a couple of buttons she could hear a familiar ring tone-Barnes' for her. She made a headlong dive for the phone and ended up with a face full of radio controls when McGee pulled it away from her. She watched McGee with an incontrollable mixture of horror and curiosity bubbling in her gut. What would he say?

She heard the click of Barnes' picking up, heard his voice saying her name...and suddenly McGee was banging her phone on the dash eighties hair band drummer style, never taking his eyes off the road but clenching his teeth like a wolf about to snap. Once he had literally hammered his message home, McGee brought the phone to his mouth.

"Do you get it?" he screamed. "Stop fucking calling her!" He slammed the phone shut and nonchalantly handed it back to her. "Here you go."

She gingerly took the phone from him and dropped it in her lap. She felt like she was sitting next to a microwaved egg-deceptively quiet for an unpredictable amount of time and then, kapow. After a boomingly silent moment, he looked over at her.

"You're not the only one with a temper."

"Apparently not," she whispered. She knew she should be mad at McGee for yelling at Barnes, or at least for using her phone as a meat tenderizer, but the only thing she felt like was laughing. She couldn't help it-the image of sweet, gentle McGee vicariously kicking Barnes' ass by bashing the shit out of her phone was too funny to her, and before she knew what happened she was giggling hysterically, clutching her belly and drum-rolling her stocking feet on the dash.

"Are you ok now?" he asked-he was laughing too. She wiped tears from her eyes and nodded, and then her brain froze and her heart skipped a beat.

They were at a stop sign, and McGee had impulsively taken her hand and kissed it. She could feel the spot where his lips had just been burning through her skin, and when she looked at his face it was incandescently happy. She suddenly realized it had gotten that way simply because he had made her feel better.

Becca resisted the urge to yank her hand away. "Yeah," she breathed, as he let go and she reclaimed her shocked fingers. "I am, thanks."

* * *

They parked in her driveway and McGee pulled his dufflebag from the trunk. Becca unlocked the front door and let McGee go in first with his gun out without saying a word. She felt strange, unsettled, like someone had left her alone in the woods without a map or a compass.

The part that scared her most was she completely understood the impetuous touch-she had done it to him just the other day right before he'd asked her to get a drink. What she didn't understand was how she could have laid her head on his chest and gripped at his shirt without feeling a thing and now he gave her a little kiss, like he had into her hair several times, and everything felt different.

Once he declared the duplex clear, he tried to usher her inside and she moved too quickly for him to put his hand on her lower back. Her mind had automatically enforced a new rule; no more touching until she figured out what was going on.

It was late-she had been in the lab with Abby until ten and after the drive her body was letting her know it. All she wanted was to brush her nucky teeth and go to bed. McGee slumped his bag against the loveseat and she slumped herself face-down on the sofa.

"This is a really nice place, Bex."

"Mmff."

"Really nice. Like an actual house. How do you afford this place?"

Because, she thought, unlike you I don't pour my money into market money funds in a busted economy and into cars with six hundred dollar a month payments, but all she said was "Umhum."

"So, which way to the bathroom?"

She pointed over her head in what she hoped was the general direction of the hallway right of the kitchen.

After an indistinguishable amount of time she raised her head and realized from the small wet spot under her mouth that she must have actually fallen asleep. Was McGee still in the bathroom? What time was it? She raised her head and glanced at the clock above the TV. One a.m. God she wanted to just lay her head back down and not get up again but, she admitted with a sigh, tonight her couch did not belong to her. Forcing herself to stand up, she ran her tongue over her teeth and winced. She just couldn't do it.

"McGee," she whined slurrily at the bathroom door, "aren't you done? McGee?"

Becca could hear the water running, but not loud enough to block out her voice. Suddenly she grew irritated-she had always hated sharing a bathroom, and even her boyfriends had annoyed her with their tendencies to leave dripping toothbrushes on the side of her clean sink. She pounded on the door frame.

"McGee, open the door! I need to brush! McGee!"

He threw the door open. "What?"

She couldn't speak. He stood there with a foaming toothbrush stuck in the pouch of his cheek, in a simple white t-shirt and _Dr. Who_ sonic screwdriver pajama pants. Her eyes drifted down to the little white laser lights, completely the wrong color, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry from the weight of it when it hit her.

She wanted him. That was the weird feeling-it had snuck up on her and now it was smacking her around like a prizefighter. She closed her eyes and pictured the mix of surprise and desire on his face if she were to jerk those adorable pj's down and leap into his arms.

"Hello? I'm done, ok. You can come in and get your toothbrush."

She shook her head. She'd just had a huge falling out with her boyfriend, who she wasn't even sure was still her boyfriend or even if she still wanted him to be, and the last time she had slept with someone she worked with, that had eventually led to...no, this was not not NOT a good idea. She'd just have to get over it.

Easier said then done, she thought as she squeezed past him into the bathroom and battled the urge to toy with the drawstrings of his pants.

The second she shut the door behind her and was alone, she suppressed a gasp of surprise. His toothbrush sat next to hers in the holder, and his toothpaste stood propped up against the mirror, also next to hers. She threw open the cabinet and laughed. His soap, razor and aftershave were next to her Proactiv in a neat line, and she hustled over to the shower to confirm that, yes, he'd scooted her myriad products over in the caddie to make room for his two unassuming bottles. He'd taken so long because he'd been organizing everything.

Certain it wouldn't help her at all but unable to resist, Becca reached for his body wash, flipped the cap and breathed in. Instantly she felt enveloped in his hug as McGee scent washed over her, sandalwood and scotch and a little hint of cloves. She thought about how tomorrow when she climbed in the shower the entire air would smell like him, clung to the stall rail and breathed out slowly. Yet another reason they needed to catch Hanover yesterday- if she was going to avoid this beckoning mistake, she had to get McGee out of her bathroom.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

27

"I think you need to start working out again," Ziva said as she leaned over DiNozzo's shoulder while he sucked in the extra inch of flab that had accumulated over the last month. He smacked her softly on the shoulder.

"If you hadn't been bringing home curry and Chinese every night this wouldn't have happened."

"No, if we could have convinced Gibbs that Hanover's not after me, this wouldn't have happened. Well, maybe it would have happened, but then I wouldn't have to look at it."

DiNozzo pulled his shirt back on and shook his head. "I still don't believe you're in the clear, and obviously Gibbs agrees with me, or he would have taken me off your detail.

"I just...move, I need to get into the drawer...I just do not understand the wisdom of assigning me a protection detail. I am more than capable of protecting myself, and after what happened with McGee four years ago, I would imagine it would be a better use of resources if you were with Becca."

"And have McGoogoo all jealous-crybaby every time I drove her into the Yard? No thanks."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "You are trying to tell me you wouldn't want to be alone at night with Becca Compston?" DiNozzo shrugged.

"Don't get me wrong-Bex's great, and she's gorgeous, but the man code states you don't mess with your boy's girl. Whether she patches things up with Barnes or McGee finally gets some balls and makes a move, she's still my boy's girl."

Ziva finished washing her face and chunked her wet hand towel at him. "I cannot believe you are still friends with Detective Barnes. After he lied to one of your partners and compromised an investigation?"

DiNozzo turned red. "He made a mistake, Ziva-Cody Barnes is a good cop. And I'm not so sure he did compromise the investigation. If Hanover is as big a believer in this spell casting as Gibbs thinks he is, he's not going to change how he's doing things because of a newspaper article."

Ziva sucked in a breath and looked down at her toes. "It's been more than a week since we found Delaney, Tony. Hanover's never taken that long between bodies before-not here, not in New York. He _is_ changing how he's doing things."

DiNozzo flopped himself down on the couch. "I'm so tired of dealing with this creep. Can't we just pretend like things are normal for five minutes and get some sleep?"

But it was too late; he could tell just by looking at the way she held her lips that Ziva's mind was whirling down an unstoppable course. After moment she shoved DiNozzo's shoulder.

"Scoot over and pull out the map of DC we had up on the board today." He draped it over the coffee table and she uncapped a green Sharpie. "We canvassed the places where Delaney spent the most time and four people were able to tell us they sometimes noticed a man fitting Hanover's description following her around-the stock boy at the grocery store here, the bartender here, the bank teller here, and here, the nail girl at the hair salon. We connected them and found this neighborhood at the center."

"But we scanned that area. No one recognized his picture, or saw the truck." Ziva shook her head.

"It has to be here, Tony. One of the first things Gibbs realized was that Hanover killed by the water because he was comfortable there, and he obviously felt safe in the Yard, and in Caledon. Those two places have been compromised-he needs somewhere else that he can feel safe. We know from the pattern that the next victim will not be found where she was killed. He needs a new killing ground, and out of all the naval personnel swarming over DC, why this neighborhood? He feels protected here." Her eyes lit up suddenly. "Tony, what if he's not going to a person? What if he's going to a place?"

"A place?'

"What if the reason no one recognized him is because no one knows him?

DiNozzo nodded slowly. "Yeah, Ziva, normally the reason you don't recognize someone is because you don't know them."

"No, you don't under...never mind!" She pressed a speed dial button on her phone. "McGee? Can you get online? Do you remember that area on the map we marked as the meeting place of the businesses Hanover saw Delaney at? Try cross-referencing previous owners of homes in that neighborhood with names in Hanover's foster-system file." She leaned into DiNozzo. "After NYCPS took Hanover away from his mother, he must have come into contact with dozens of people. Foster parents, other children he lived with..."

"It's a long shot, Ziva. You really think someone from the New York foster system ended up here in DC?"

"He knows this area, Tony, and he knew Caledon Woods. He had a connection to DC before he followed Becca here, and the only person from his life from before he was in the foster system has been dead for nine years."

On the other end of the line, McGee cleared his throat. "Ziva, call Gibbs, and meet Becca and me at the office. We have to talk."

* * *

An hour later Gibbs, Abby, Ziva, DiNozzo, and Becca all stood in the quad while McGee's fingers sped over his keyboard and images pulled up on the common screen.

"It didn't come up on the background check of the door-to-doors, Boss, because only immediate family info is listed," he said as Gibbs hovered over his shoulder. "Francis Lowden purchased her current home from her cousin Christopher Gress, who was in the same NYCPS foster home with Connor Hanover for six months in 1989-foster parents were a Mr. and Mrs. James Kirksen."

Gibbs nodded. "Good work. Call the Kirksens and find out if Gress and Hanover were close. Ziva, Tony, head over to Francis Lowden's house and scout the premises-find out if he could have accessed the lot without her knowledge. Either she lied to us or she doesn't know he's on her property. Becca, answer that phone, and if it's Graham trace it so I can kick his ass."

Becca smiled and pushed the receiver button. "Naval Criminal Investigative Services, Agent Rebecca Com...slow down sir, I can't understand you. Your name? Alright, Mr. Aswari, when was the last time you spoke to your wife? I understand your concern sir, but it's been less then twenty-four hours, and surely this is a police matter. I can transfer you to your local prec... oh. You read the article. Oh I see. And how old is your son? One moment Mr. Aswari." She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and motioned Gibbs over.

"Ali Aswari, says his wife never came back from her station tonight and didn't call. He read Graham's article and now he's panicking."

Gibbs looked at her for a long moment. "You feel like it's something?"

"I think you should talk to him."

Gibbs took the phone and spoke soothingly to the frightened man, keeping his composure, but after a few minutes Becca saw the furrow between his brows deepen and his blue eyes cloud with worry. When he told Aswari to come in before he hung up, Becca felt an ominous sense of fate hanging over him like a black shroud.

"Midshipman Habibe Aswari- thirty-three, Egyptian-American, and she just gave birth about two months ago. A textbook sixth victim and," he growled as he walked over to the map of the neighborhood they'd been studying and marked a bright blue star in the northwest section, "Aswari is calling from their home right here."

DiNozzo's eyes widened. "The first, third, and fourth victims were killed in Caledon and then placed where we found them, but Caledon's crawling with troopers looking for Hanover."

Becca swallowed hard. "He's taking her back to Frances Lowden's. Gibbs, do you think we can..."

"...We can still save her life?" He nodded. "Guns, amo, Kevlar vests. Now."

* * *

The early spring had been unseasonably warm; only two weeks into March, and already the nights were no longer cold. Becca stood in her assigned position behind a column of Francis Lowden's back porch and watched the backyard gate through the short tendrils of hair the gentle breeze blew across her face. She tried to calm her racing heart. There was no promise that Hanover hadn't already been here and killed Aswari before they had ever even realized his connection to this house, but something in her gut whispered to her that tonight, finally, it would be over.

She thought about poor Mrs. Lowden, now securely tucked away in a local motel with three police officers. She had admitted that her cousin had a few less than desirable friends that had come poking around her property in the months after she had purchased it, but she seemed genuinely surprised to realize that, as DiNozzo had proven just hours earlier, someone could have easily hopped her fence and gotten down into her unused basement through the separate shed entrance without her ever knowing anything about it. In the basement they had found Hanover's prints on almost every surface. This was his place-the only question was whether they were in time. If they were too late, there would be no way to hide their activities here, and Hanover would most likely abandon the house, find a new haven, and they were back to the beginning. Becca shuddered. They couldn't be too late.

Just as she shifted from one foot to the other, she heard a strange noise from behind her, like the rustling of bushes. Probably just the cat, she thought, but something nagged at her mind. Then she remembered. The noise of the bushes just before Hanover had grabbed her. Becca whispered into her com mike.

"There's a disturbance in the front of the house. Requesting back-up."

"Copy that," she heard Gibbs' voice in her ear, and Becca turned around and stepped cautiously forward into the front yard.

She swung her flashlight over the bushes lining the foundation walls, but nothing but shining green leaves caught the beam of light. Just as she turned to go back to her post, she heard a noise to the right of her. Breathing. Two distinct human breaths. She swung her flashlight and her gun.

The wide brown eyes of Habibe Aswari stared back at her. Below them her light bounced off the bowie knife held to Aswari's throat, and behind them, off the glassy pupils of Connor Hanover, who let the touch of a smile play at the corners of his mouth.

"Let her go, Connor," she said gently, and his eyes widened and looked past her, and she knew without having to look that her four people stood behind her.

"I can't," he said calmly. "You know I can't. The spell has to be cast the right way."

"Your mother told you all sorts of lies, Connor. Casting this spell, murdering these people, is not going to get me to come with you."

"You're wrong! You can reclaim your rightful throne once enough blood has been spilt to heal the land-I'm not finished yet. You'll see. Once I've set free all nine souls, you won't have a choice anymore."

"That's not going to happen, Connor," Gibbs called out. "You're not walking out of this, not again. No one else has to get hurt."

"Why not? If you're going to shoot me why shouldn't I take this one with me?" He pressed the knife tighter against Aswari, and the captive woman's eyes screamed at Becca. Becca raised her gun in the air and then set it down on the ground.

"Alright, Connor, let's just talk. Everyone put their guns down." Behind her she heard one, two, three pieces hit the ground. "Everyone, Ziva." Four.

"Connor," Becca said, "even if you finish your spell, and it works, and I come with you, you'll be disappointed. I cannot do or be whatever it is you think I can. I'm not a dethroned queen or disguised goddess. I'm like you-just a lonely little kid whose mom was kind of crazy. I have no powers."

"You're lying!"

"I am not lying. I'm just a woman, just like the ones you've killed, like the one you have in your arms. Her name is Habibe, Connor, and she's scared. She has a son. Would you take her away from her son like the people in New York took your mother away from you?"

In the sharp light she could see his eyes darting from her to the team behind her to Aswari and back-he was getting confused, and if she caught him just as he was falling maybe she could swing him her way.

"You're trying to trick me!"

"No one's trying to trick you. I'm telling you the truth."

"No," he said harshly, and she started to panic; she was loosing him. "It's a test. You're testing me with a lie just like she used to do. I won't fail this time!"

He raised the knife to strike downwards, and Becca reached out as she screamed for him to stop.

Suddenly a flash and a wizz of air went past her ear and Hanover bellowed in pain-Becca just had time to bend down and pick up her gun before he went for Aswari again. Bam bam bam bam bam! She fired five times into his chest and he dropped, the bowie rolling away from his hand to come resting at Becca's feet. She looked over at him and saw Ziva's knife embedded deep in his leg.

Gibbs took off his coat and went over to drape it around a shaking Aswari's shoulders and took out his handkerchief to wipe Hanover's blood splatter off her cheek. "Come on, Sailor," he said softly. "Your husband and son are waiting for you."

Becca reached down, pulled the knife out of Hanover's thigh and wiped it on his pant leg before she handed it back to Ziva.

"You saved her life," she whispered. Ziva smiled as she tucked her knife back in its sheathe.

"No, you did. I just gave you the opportunity. I knew you would take the shot."

McGee came up and put a hand on Becca's shoulder.

"Are you ok?"

All of a sudden she felt choked. She had been pursuing this guy for what felt like centuries, had lost her sleep and temper and sanity over him, had been kidnapped and bound and chased through the woods and now a few squeezes of a trigger and it was over, this invincible monster who had caused so much destruction lay crumpled at her feet like a dead spider she had flicked off the wall. Like nothing.

"Yeah," she croaked. "I'm ok."

"You did the right thing."

She didn't answer. She just holstered her gun and walked away.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

28

The next evening DiNozzo sat in Ziva's apartment packing the last of his things. It felt odd to be leaving-for three weeks they had shared almost everything; the bathroom, the kitchen, the ride to work, everything but a bed. He had thought when Gibbs first told him he would be on her PCD that it would be hell, but he had to admit, it had been almost...nice. Comfortable. Natural. He had a reputation to protect, so he hoped it never got out, but their life together had been surprisingly peaceful. They had practically given up the veiled insults and verbal arrows, though whether from true gentleness or just from being too exhausted at the end of the day, he couldn't say. He just knew that he liked it. He wasn't sure he was ready to go back to the old routine.

Ziva poked her head out her door and watched him. "You haven't forgotten anything? I don't want to find any old underwear in the corner of my bathroom."

"All old underwear has been safely dispatched." She made a face, and he grinned, but it lacked the usual DiNozzo spark, and she noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh like you care."

Usually she would tease him, but the Hanover case had really taken it out of her partner, and now was not the time to be flippant. "I do care. Tell me."

"You'll laugh at me."

She wasn't used to his being this vulnerable with her, and it unsettled her. "I will not laugh at you."

He looked at her for a long time, and she began to get a sense that whatever he was about to say would change everything.

"I don't want to go," he finally breathed, and he continued before she had a chance to say anything. "I liked living here, with you. I liked not being alone at the end of the sort of days we've been having, and I liked just having my friend around instead of some random girl."

Ziva took a deep breath, decided that what she was about to do was totally unnecessary and totally crazy, then decided to do it anyway. "You don't want to go?"

"No, I don't."

"Then don't go."

His face lit up like a little boy's and she couldn't help smiling. "You mean it? You'll let me crash on the couch one more time?"

"Why don't you give the couch a rest?" she whispered as she held the door to the bedroom open. DiNozzo stood shocked for only a moment, then followed her through it.

* * *

Becca sat curled up in her loveseat and stared at the opposite wall. McGee's things lay scattered about; his pillow on the far end of the couch, an electronics magazine on the coffee table, his unwashed breakfast plate on the side table, his slippers on the floor. It was over, they had stopped Hanover, but it had cost her Barnes and now McGee was probably snug in his own bed, maybe coming to get his stuff in the morning. She had come home to a deserted house, and hadn't even bothered to change out of her skirt and blouse or get her usual cup of tea. She had just wrapped herself in the blanket he had been using to try and catch a last fleeting whiff of his scent and let herself wallow in whatever it was she was feeling.

Something was deeply wrong with her- she could kill a human being without a second thought (admittedly he was murderous scum, but that wasn't the point) and yet she was too much of a coward to tell McGee that she didn't want him to go. A few minutes earlier she had toyed with her phone, running her finger over his speed dial button, but eventually she had put it away. Who was she kidding? Her every attempt at connection with the opposite sex turned out to be a disaster. The only thing she would create with McGee was a mess, and in the process she would probably lose her job and her best friend.

Maybe she should call Barnes. The more and more she thought about it, the less angry she was at him. It was a big mistake, and a stupid one, no doubt, but she wasn't the person to be casting stones when it came to stupid mistakes. And he cared deeply for her. It would be so easy-she could just pick up the phone and he would come over to hold her and tell her he loved her and how grateful he was for a second chance. They could try again and she would just learn to live with his flaws.

Maybe she should just get wasted.

A loud booming noise hurt her ears, and it took her a moment to realize someone was knocking at her door. Her sister? She had said she might come over tonight, but Becca hadn't thought she would actually drive all the way in from Richmond.

She threw open the door to find McGee, and her whole body felt alive and warm. "Hey," she breathed. He smiled nervously.

"I just came over to..."

"...Get your stuff. Yeah, it's all still here."

"Yeah, no, I...Bex, you're not ok. I know you said you were, but today you were so...look, I just know you, and you're not ok. I thought I'd come over and see if you could use some company."

She sighed. "You might as well just stay. Half your life is all over my house."

He threw his jacket over the back of the couch. "Let me change into my pj's and we'll talk."

After he came out of the bathroom they stood looking at each other, him at the top of her head and her at his chest. He was tall. She always seemed to forget that he was tall.

"What are we going to do?" He shrugged.

"What were you doing before I came over?"

"I think I was about to get drunk."

"That sounds excellent. Wait, you have alcohol? I have been in every corner of this house and I never found any alcohol."

She grinned naughtily and took his hand to lead him into the kitchen. "That's because you didn't look in the right place," she said as she reached into the refrigerator and pulled a familiar bottle out of the veggie crisper. He sucked in a breath.

"No. You've been keeping it this whole time? What's that say on the tape? 'Bex's special X-mas...' Why didn't you drink it?"

She gently slugged his shoulder. "I kept it for a special occasion. Can't think of anything more special than finally catching the serial killer we've been chasing for a month and a half." She hopped up on her counter and patted the empty space next to her. McGee pulled out his Swiss army knife, opened the bottle and took a deep swig before joining her. He handed her the bottle. When she put her lips too it the feeling of the moisture from his mouth made a flood of warmth rush through her.

"So," he began. "What were you doing before? Just sitting in the dark?"

She nodded. "Thinking about my life. It's such a mess."

"I don't know. You've got a nice house, you're good at your job..."

"...My family's a wreck, my love life's in limbo, I'm persona non grata to everyone in New York; no, McGee, trust me. My life's a fucking mess."

After a quiet moment he looked at her seriously. "Can I ask you a question? What happened in New York?"

She turned away from him. "I told you-I was in a long-term serious relationship with a fellow cop and he cheated on me."

McGee took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "That's not it. I know you better than that-you'd bounce back. What really happened?"

She took a deep breath. No one, not even her sister, had ever heard the entire story. She had locked it up inside for so long that she didn't even know if she could access it without falling apart, but if there was any place she felt safe enough to try, it was next to McGee.

"When I was a new detective, I was assigned to the fifth Manhattan, and my partner was William O'Brian."

McGee's jaw dropped. "Wait, Bulldog Billy O'Brian was your partner? He's a New York legend!"

"Yeah, yeah, twenty-six years on the beat, youngest detective to ever be assigned to homicide, most solved murder cases in Manhattan history-there's nothing about Bulldog I don't know. I know his shoe size, what sort of club soda he uses to get stains out of his ties." She looked meaningfully at McGee. "What type of Trojans he buys."

McGee didn't say anything. His mouth curled into a small o, and Becca embarrassedly grinned.

"Yeah, well, I've always preferred older men, and Billy was...I don't know. When he was talking to a witness he'd be smooth as Sinatra reborn and then he'd turn around and beat the shit out a victim's crack dealer. He was handsome and rough and real and dangerous and I was a kid along for the ride. I guess I got sucked in and at first it was just good sex but then he started talking about moving in together and the future. He told me he'd never known another woman like me."

McGee nodded. "That I believe."

"After three years I got reassigned to a different precinct, different partner, and they gave Billy a new kid to crack. That's what he was, the colt breaker-I don't know how many green detectives they saddled him with over the years. She was beautiful and had eyes for him but I was young and naïve and to tell the truth a little full of myself. I thought...I don't know what I thought, but it wasn't what I should have thought. I guess I just believed him when he told me he loved me."

McGee had the look on his face like he'd had when Hanover had touched her cheek in Caledon, and somehow his anger gave her the strength to keep talking.

"A month before I left New York I had to go in for my physical, and I found out..." The words suddenly caught in her throat and she coughed-not until she felt McGee's strong fingers wrap around hers did she get them out. "I found out I was pregnant. I was so excited; I've always wanted to be a mother, and I thought Billy would be happy too. He used to talk forever about how much he wanted kids. But when I finally told him, he was just quiet for a while, and then he asked me if I was sure it was a good decision. If I was sure that I wanted to attempt such a life change at this crucial point in my career. He reminded me of so many opportunities for a young up and coming detective that a parent would get passed over for, and...you have to understand, when he wanted to be, no one was as good a salesman as Billy. By the time he was done, he had convinced me not to have it."

McGee shook his head. "I can't believe I admired that shitbag."

"I thought about it over the next week, and I decided it just wasn't right. All his arguments were inconveniences I could overcome-the bottom line was that I was in love, I believed I would soon be getting married, and I wanted a family. All the other shit was just ludicrous."

She took another swill of wine, a deep gulping one that made McGee grab the bottle away from her. "When I went to join him on that stake-out, when I found him banging his partner, I was going to tell him that I had changed my mind. That I wouldn't have an abortion. But when I caught him, he didn't try to explain or plead with me or even say a word to me. He just lay there with his fucking dick still in her twat and stared at me, like, 'What are you going to do about it?' I went home and suddenly my baby wasn't my baby. It was this thing inside me that this fucking cheating bastard had put in me that he didn't even want, and I couldn't..." She lay her head on McGee's shoulder and pushed her eyes against his shirt so he wouldn't see her crying. "I know it was wrong but I just couldn't do it anymore. I went to the clinic, and the day after I put my apartment and all my furniture up for sale, packed and flew to Richmond. I never wanted to see New York again."

He pulled her over onto his lap and buried his lips in her hair. "What do you need from me?" he whispered. She patted his shoulder, slid off him and picked up the bottle of wine.

"I need you to let me get trashed."

So he did.

Two hours later, after the wine was gone and she had puked twice, McGee lay on the couch watching Becca count the screwdrivers on his pajama pants. All at once she stood up and ran off into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" he called after her. She dug through a drawer until she triumphantly held up a light blue Sharpie.

"You've worn those damn _Dr. Who_ pj's for a week and for a week it's been driving me nuts,' she proclaimed, and started to color the white laser lights with her marker. McGee tried to bat her hand away.

"What the hell are you doing? These were a gift!"

"They're the wrong color!"

"They are not!"

The rapidity with which she went from spaced out to perfectly lucid astonished him. "McGee, the shape and design of the sonic screwdriver on these pants is clearly a modern design. The old one from 1982 and before looked totally different. These are 2005 season screwdrivers, and the laser light on the 2005 sonic screwdriver is blue, not white. I have to fix them."

"Just a minute. You're going to color every single one of these screwdrivers blue with that little marker?" She nodded, and he looked concernedly at her. "Can I stop you?" She shook her head.

"Not unless you want to go into work tomorrow with blue Sharpie all over your face. I was raised on the BBC, McGee. I had a TARDIS lamp in my bedroom-one thing I never joke about is _Dr. Who_ accuracy."

McGee lay back and let her color, and she fought back a smile. She wasn't really drunk anymore, and she was perfectly aware of the tension in his leg muscles as she worked her way up past his knees. She wondered if she really felt mischievous enough to attempt to mark _every_ screwdriver, then mentally shrugged. If he wanted to stop her, he'd stop her.

This was getting out of hand, she admitted to herself as she got on the couch between his legs to reach his thighs, but now her pride was on the line. She colored in towards the center, then did the same on the other leg, and paused just long enough that she knew he must know she was hesitating. Just as she decided to go for broke and reached the marker towards his crotch, he snatched her wrist. She pouted.

"I'm not done yet."

"I can do that part," he whispered huskily, and before she could back away he pulled her up on top of him and then flipped her underneath. The marker fell to the floor.

"That better not get all over the carpet," she said as she tried to calm her heart down. They were pressed together all along the length of their bodies and he still had his hand around her wrist. She twisted it.

"Let go.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to kiss you."

She looked in his eyes; their icy blue had darkened to cobalt and she squirmed under him. "That's not a good idea, McGee. There are rules..."

"Work? Gibbs? We're adults. We can handle it."

"It'll ruin everything. We won't be able to be friends."

He smiled, and her heart skipped. "I'm just going to kiss you Bex. That won't ruin our friendship."

He moved towards her, and just before they touched she pushed on his shoulder.

"I like older men," she said in a last-ditch attempt.

"You're twenty five, Bex," he breathed on her lips. "I am an older man."

McGee pressed his mouth gently against hers and she wanted to cry from how soft and warm it felt. She'd wanted this, fought this for a week and still she tensed against him, trying to keep fighting, but when he softly played with her bottom lip between his, her body started giving up from her mouth downward. He let go of her wrist, and she moved her hand up to clutch at his t-shirt. She just wanted to get lost in him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer-I own absolutely nothing to do with NCIS.**

29

McGee felt like he was dreaming, and only the feeling of her hip against his hardening groin let him know he was not. He pushed his thumb between their mouths and suppressed a groan when she took it between her teeth. He delicately spread her lips open and kissed her again. When their tongues touched her soft moan of surrender vibrated though his mouth and his control started to snap and splinter like a frozen tree. Finally, finally...

"That's why I'm easy, easy like Sunday morning!..." Becca's phone blared and she shoved him off her so hard he almost fell off the couch.

"Oh my God! What the hell are we doing!"

McGee felt pissed at having his touch pushed away so roughly. "I'm trying to make out with you!" he shouted over her screaming phone. "Answer the damn thing so Lionel will shut up!"

She looked at the pulsating phone for a moment, then looked him dead in the eye as she flipped it open. "Hi Cody." McGee picked his shoe up off the floor and threw it at the wall. Becca winced at the thud.

"No, nothing, I...what? Look, Cody, now's not a good time...no, I'm not still mad. Well, things happened. Yeah, it was me who took him down. What? No, I'm fine, I just....now? Cody, I'm sort of...don't do that, I hate it when you do that. Stop apologizing, I...ok. Ok fine. Just for a little while. See you in a bit."

She closed the phone and looked at McGee, who shook his head.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"It's good we got interrupted. It was a mistake."

"A mistake you were pretty damn into!"

"It's over, McGee."

"Is he coming over here?"

"He wants to talk about things. He feels like he deserves a second chance."

"Are you going to get back together with him?"

She looked down at the floor, and bent over to pick up the marker. "I don't know. I've been thinking about it."

"Great. You've been thinking about it. You were clinging to me five seconds ago, but you've been thinking about it." He picked up his shoes and started gathering his thing from around the room. "You know what Rebecca, I'm done. If he's what you want, that's fine. Just leave me out of your life."

A crack of thunder peeled over their heads. He hadn't even realized it was starting to storm.

She pulled at her hair. "This is exactly what I knew would happen! You kissed me and now everything's screwed up! I knew it, I...God, fuck, McGee, just get out! Get your shit and get out!"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" he yelled as he shoved his clothes into his dufflebag. "I'll come back for the rest."

"Don't bother-I'll bring it to work with me tomorrow."

"Fine. Do whatever the hell you want." He slammed the door behind him and marched out to his car. He was such an idiot! For a second he thought she might actually want him! Why was he always making that mistake with her?

No, he thought as he pulled out of her subdivision and onto the deserted highway, he hadn't been wrong. She had responded to him like a woman to a man she wanted. He thought back on every little thing she had ever done to make him think she felt that way about him, all through the woods in Caledon and the fight the day before back to Christmas and shaving her head in her bathroom to that night at the bar, when she had looked at him before she'd taken down her hair and he'd felt the first glimmer of hope that maybe he just might have a shot. Alone they were nothing but taken all together...he knew he wasn't alone in this. He just knew it down in his gut.

Suddenly he realized he'd left his jacket on her couch, and he had nothing to wear to work tomorrow. Everything was still at her house.

Fuck, he mentally shouted as he slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Fuck fuck fuck! If he drove back there now, if he saw Barnes' trooper car parked outside, if he saw the silhouette of them kissing through the window, he'd go nuts. Certifiably murderously nuts. He pulled over to turn the car around just as the sky opened up and a steady grey rain streaked his windshield. He cursed and turned on his wipers. He peered out at the black sky, trying to decide whether or not to actually drive back to Falls Church, when he saw a familiar sight coming towards him. One bright white right head light. How many times had he begged her to replace it? What the hell was she doing?

He honked at Becca to pull over-it was starting to rain heavily, and showed every intention of getting worse. The thought of her getting in another wreck without him there made him shake so badly he couldn't have let her pass if he'd wanted too. For a brief moment he thought she would fly beyond him, but at the last possible second she stopped so suddenly the kickback almost knocked her chassis off the wheels. Heedless of the rain, he got out of his car. She did too, and the sight of her took his breath away. She had taken off her work blouse, and under her barely-on jacket she had on a cotton tank top with no bra. His breath hitched. All he had to do was reach out a hand and there would be nothing but that tissue-thin fabric between his fingers and her skin.

They stood for a minute just staring at each other, panting as if they'd run a marathon to get to this spot.

He started to call to her, then as he realized that he could not make himself heard over the thunder above their heads, he walked up to her until the tips of their shoes touched. She didn't back away from him an inch.

"What are you doing?"

She held up his sports coat-water ran off it in pouring rivulets that splashed his pants and mud-splattered her bare legs.

"Bringing you back your jacket," she said with a deadly calm he knew too well to mistake. All at once she threw it at him so it smacked him sodden in the face and fell to the asphalt. He let it lie there between them. She looked down at it and abruptly reached up and slapped him.

"Why do you always ruin everything!?"

He knew. He knew from her eyes she had been right. He didn't know exactly what it was or how it had happened, but he knew something had cracked when he'd kissed her and now absolutely everything was different. She tore off her jacket and tossed it on the ground on top of his and ran her fingers desperately through her dripping hair.

"Where were you going?" he asked evenly. Somehow he felt convinced that a storm was about to break more ferocious than the one raging over their heads and that if he could just stay cool, stay calm no matter how badly he wanted to scream, it would not rip free until they could survive it. She shrugged.

"I told you, I was bringing you your jacket. Where were you going?"

"I was coming back to get it. Why aren't you with Barnes?"

Her eyes blazed at him. "Cody's gone."

"Why?"

She wrapped her shivering arms around her drop-beaded shoulders and turned from him. "He came over and I could tell he had been drinking. He's been doing that since Gibbs had him taken off the case and wouldn't let him head my detail anymore. He saw your jacket lying on the chair and...he accused me of all sorts of sordid nasty things and I told him he was being irrational and jealous and paranoid and distrustful and...I'm sure I threw a few more colorful adjectives in, I don't really remember. Anyway, he...he's just gone."

Every cell in his body stained against the control he imposed on them. "I see. So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. Call him tomorrow and try to patch it up I guess."

"Is that what you want?"

She spun back on him. "You know, he is perfect for me! He's the right age, and tall enough for me to wear my heels, and in spite of some mistakes he's made he's a good man, sweet and funny and my family likes him. He's a friend of Tony's and he works in the same line so he completely, absolutely understands my job! He's the perfect man for me!"

"So why don't you go back to him?"

"I don't know!"

"I think you do."

That left her speechless. She stood a foot away from him, just staring, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of her. Her smooth white shoulders and collarbone and arms glittered in the bits of moonlight weaving through the rain. Her perfect rose-tipped breasts swung loose in her sodden tank-top and her soaked skirt clung to her long lean thighs, and her hair hung in dark burning drenched straggles against her pained, incredulous face. She was the most incredible desirable intoxicating thing he had ever seen in his life and he knew if he did not put his hands on her in the next five seconds he would irrevocably lose his mind. Her eyes met his, and he felt the longest moment of sheer panic of his life.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I guess I do know."

In a second he had her pulled up so tight against him he could feel her nipples pressing into his chest and her pubic bone digging into his like a knife. He brought his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss so bruising he knew he must have hurt her but he didn't care. Neither did she-she pulled back just enough to rip his shirt off and throw it to the pavement before she tore her mouth away from his and began dragging it over his wet skin. He grasped her ass and she jumped, wrapping her naked legs around him as he ran his hands up her skirt. He dropped her down hard on the hood of her car and freed a hand to rip her thin wet cotton panties into pieces and toss them into the grass.

McGee pushed his hands up under her tank top, almost unable to hold it when he felt her hard nipples press into his palms as she arched herself up to meet his touch. Becca pulled away from him and scooted back a foot to sit up and let him tear her tank off. He forced himself to slow down and look at her. The rain was coming down harder, making little waterfalls that cascaded off the tips of her breasts down her belly and onto her skirt where he felt it through the saturated cotton as he brought his hands back to the tops of her thighs, letting his thumbs brush the outside edges of where he wanted to touch her most. She pressed herself against his fingers, and past the cold wet of the rain water he felt the smooth warm slickness that was all her. He pushed his aching groin against her knee to let her know just how badly he wanted her.

"Do you want to go in the back seat?" he gasped. She tipped her head back and gathered a mouthful of rain before leaning forward and kissing him ferociously as she slid her breasts along his naked chest.

"No," she breathed in his mouth. "I just want you. Here. Now."

The car creaked as he climbed on top of her and glided his tongue over her nipple and fought back a smile for her skin tasted salty, just as he'd imagined it would on the first day he met her. Becca reached for his pant drawstring and just the light pressure of the slight movement sent an almost painful wave of fire flashing through his hardness. He was more than ready to take her at her word.

She pushed his pants down and grabbed hold of him, pumping his shaft as he suckled her, neither of them doing much more than trying to breath. They felt lost, the world around them reduced to wet skin and mouths and the matching up and down pressure of his lips on her, her hand on him. Suddenly through the thunder of the rain in his ears he heard her whimpering.

"McGee, please," she mewed. "Please, please...don't make me...can't wait..."

In two smooth motions he pushed her legs apart and thrust into her, almost coming apart when he felt her tight walls close in around him with the most delicious warm suction. He withdrew and sank again slowly; he wanted to make that feeling linger as long as he could, but soon she was sliding on the slippery hood as she bucked against him, frantic to take him deeper inside.

"Harder," she pleaded. "God, fuck, McGee, fuck me please, please, shit Tim..."

He did. He pushed faster and faster until he felt certain he was yanking her life out and shoving it back it but shit! the feeling of the cold wet rain on his shaft when he pulled out and the hot tightness of her when he went back in made him bite his lip until it bled trying to last for her. Finally he heard her breath coming fast and shallow.

She suddenly convulsed around him in a fluttering grip that made a wild cry break from deep in his gut and just as his control broke she screamed, a primal scream that echoed in his ears even through the roar of the storm. He let go and felt like all of his blood, his brains, everything had to be inside her now since it was all drained out of him. He didn't even withdraw, just collapsed on her and let the rain pour down his back.

She clung to him, her tenacious fingers clutching at his back and shoulders to glue him to her like a magnet. After a minute they grew quiet, and he realized that the rain had become so violent it felt like needles driving into his skin.

"I think," she whispered in his ear, "that we should go inside the car and wait out the storm. Neither one of us can drive in this. Not after that."

He nodded and got up off of her. On impulse he kicked his pants off the rest of the way and she pulled her skirt from around her ribcage down over her toes. They climbed into the back seat and lay holding each other, not touching or kissing but just trying to slow down their ragged breathing and pounding hearts until the rain eased. Finally when only a light drizzle was making its way down the windows did Becca extract McGee's arms from around her and they got out of the car to stand naked on the highway shoulder.

"Can I take your shirt?" she asked. He nodded and picked the muddy wet thing off the road. She pulled it over her head and yanked her skirt back on. He grabbed his pants off the top of the tire.

He realized with a start that she actually intended to get in her car and drive back home without him.

"Becca, what...what happened?"

"I don't know. I don't know, I just...I need to think, McGee. We need to think and I'll never be able to do it if you're within ten feet of me."

"So, what, we just..."

"I can't. Maybe you're ready to just jump but I can't. I want you Tim, I want you so bad every single second but I've been through so much recently and just can't do anything else. Not right now."

She got in her car and drove off back the way she had come. He stood there staring up at the black sky for a minute, at the same time completely confused and absolutely sure of what had just happened.

Later, at four in the morning as he sat bolt upright in his cold expanse of empty bed, he remembered that both his good sports coat and her leather bomber were lying wet and ruined on the side of the highway.


End file.
